


Mentor:  Book One

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Series: MENTOR, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair have personal problems during a murder investigation when Jim suspects Blair suffered abuse as a minor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mentor:  Book One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the Mentor series. The second part will be about Blair's relationship with Eli Stoddard. The third will pick up where part one leaves off.

This story has been split into two parts for easier loading.

## Mentor: Book One

by Grey

Disclaimers: Not mine, but that doesn't seem to make much difference. 

Summary: During a murder investigation, Jim and Blair have problems when Jim suspects Blair suffered abuse as a minor. 

Thanks to XFreak aka Jenn for her patient editing and support. 

Thanks to others who've listened for months about the birthing of this one. This is the first of three parts. The second part will be a back story from Blair's point of view when he's fifteen and has a relationship with an older man. The third part will deal with the aftermath of part one. Part one and three may be read without part two, which will contain explicit underage and nonconsensual sex. 

Warnings: Contains explicit sex, language, and violent situations. 

* * *

Mentor  
Book One - part one  
by Grey 

Soft, springy hairs pressed against his fingers as Jim ran his hand across his sleeping lover's chest, the soft nub of the left nipple just starting to harden. Between his thumb and index finger he rolled it, the flesh warming, the skin tighter and more flushed. Breathing increased with heartbeat and Blair's once slack jaw flexed into a smile as he neared waking. Leaning over, Jim kissed the shoulder, the slick mix of night sweat and oil sliding into a familiar flavor, his favorite, his lover's morning taste, so delicious his cock twitched in anticipation of conditioned favors soon to follow. 

A low moan accompanied the hand swinging up to pat his cheek but hitting his chin. "Morning, Chief." Capturing the wayward limb, his lips met the exposed palm. His tongue licked up along the life line, from the wrist and then to the fingers, the creased ridges rough and textured in contrast to the smooth chill of gold. The commitment ring matching his own clicked against his teeth and he kissed it, his silent vow of love both a pleasure and comfort. 

"Uhm." The unformed word came as Blair wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his own hairy chest. 

"Love you, babe." 

Without answering, just breathing harder and eyes still squeezed shut, Blair turned over, his back scooting in closer to Jim's lap. Pushing back, he pulled both knees up at the same time, his ass rubbing against the slick tip of Jim's cock, his aim perfect. 

"Oh, Jesus." Jim groaned as he used one hand to massage his lover's shoulder while he held his own cock steady. After a few pumps, he reached over to the bedside table and quickly retrieved the packet and lube. He rolled on the condom and probed the opening, his thumb sliding in and out several times to the calling rhythm of Blair's hips against him. 

God, he loved mornings, no talk, no fuss, just pushing inside that hot, tight channel. Heat surged up his middle, the swelling pulse almost too much after only a few tries as he captured his lover's waist to keep him even closer. Leaning into the humping, each thrust long and hard, he locked his chin over the neck and shoulder as he whispered, "Tell me." 

No answer came from his lover, who rocked his hips back and forth even more quickly. 

"Tell me, Blair. Tell me." Panted breaths accented each word between each pounding drive, the pressure increasing, tight muscles gripping his bones, his need to come building. "Who do you belong to, Chief? Tell me." 

A low groan muffled the word, but he heard it. He always heard it, right before the world exploded into a flash of color, the yellow overwhelming every shade of blue known even to sentinels. 

"Jim." 

And so the world tilted in favor of love, his spine stretched to new limits, bowed against the mercy of pure pleasure as his cock gripped him in spasm. Nothing stopped the flood of sparkling heat settling to phosphorescent ash behind his eyelids, flaking his lungs with glowing cinders. Blair belonged to Jim. Always. 

Air finally found a path back to his lungs and filtered slowly up to his brain, weak morning light a cloudy mesh. Relaxing enough to move away from his still partner, he casually slid his hand down to touch his lover's thick cock. He wanted to sample the bitter, but special essence of Blair's release and jarred himself into sudden full waking, the light expanding like a harsh white screen. "Shit." 

"What?" Blair muttered the word as he reached down and captured the hand holding his flaccid member. 

"You're not even hard." 

"It's okay." 

"It's not okay." Gently he wrapped his fingers around him, the series of gentle tugs an offered penance, but Blair's firmer grip stopped him. 

"Don't. I'm not in the mood." 

"Not in the mood?" He lifted his head and stared, confused at his lover's calm, almost bored tone. 

"Yeah, I'm still tired and about half asleep here." Slapping his hand, he shoved his butt back a little. "Now, come on, pull out, Jim. I need a shower." 

"Sure. Okay." His tongue fumbled over the easy words, his mind still not quite sure why it suddenly needed some answers about what just happened. 

Carefully, he held the edge of the condom as he withdrew, tied the end, and threw it away in the bedside trash. Blair handed him a wet wipe before cleaning himself off enough to sit up. Balanced on the edge of the bed, he ran his hand along Jim's middle, and smiled. "It's okay, man. I don't need it every morning like you do." 

"But, Chief..." 

"I need to shower and fix breakfast. Eggs okay?" 

"Sure, eggs are fine, but this isn't right. I just made love to you, or thought I did, and you didn't even get hard. What's wrong?" 

Reaching over, keeping his eyes averted, he grabbed his flannel robe as he stood. After tying the belt, he put on his glasses, still not meeting Jim's eyes. "Nothing's wrong, Jim. Look, I don't want to talk about this now." 

"It's important." 

"Maybe, but not right now. We've got a ton of meetings today. And Simon said that Ricky Doyle's coming in to help us question our victim. We can talk tonight." 

"Ricky's a good shrink, but I don't want to talk about him right now." 

"I don't either, but we need to be ready and there's a lot to do. With his help we might be able to actually get a breakthrough and be done with this thing." 

As he headed for the stairs, Jim called out, his tongue in panic. "I love you." 

The bright smile that ran the world flashed. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too, man. I'll have breakfast done in no time." 

Leaning back against the pillow, Jim closed his eyes and fought back the building dread. Making love required two people, not one. Even a selfish asshole like Jim Ellison knew that much. He swallowed hard as he reached for another wet wipe, the evidence of his earlier activity clinging stubbornly between his legs and spreading a dirty film across his tainted morning spirit. Damn. 

* * *

A half hour later Jim sat showered and shaved at the table sipping coffee. He watched quietly while Blair hustled around the kitchen, each movement quick and efficient from practice. Wearing tight jeans, blue and charcoal flannel top over a grey Henley, his brown belt stood out, the engraved wolves surrounding his waist almost prowling alive in the shadows from the dim streams drifting in from the skylight. His hair pulled back with a black leather tie strengthened his features, his bones even more defined and handsome, his whiskers barely tamed with close shaving. 

"I'm sorry, Chief." 

Ignoring the words for the moment, Blair opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. "You want orange or grape juice this morning?" 

"Orange is fine. And I said I'm sorry." 

"I heard you." Pouring the juice in the glasses, he then picked up the plate of fresh toast before bringing them to the table and sitting down. He brought his hands up together and then settled his dark blue eyes on Jim, his mood very serious. "I told you I didn't want to discuss this now." 

"I need to discuss it." Jim put his coffee down, letting his hand reach over to take Blair's before he continued talking. "I need to know what's wrong. What's going on?" 

Blair took a deep sigh and squeezed his hand in assurance, his body still tight but relaxed. "There's not really a problem, at least not for me." 

"How can you say that?" 

"I can say it because it's true. You're making a big deal over nothing." 

"Me coming inside you when you're not even reacting isn't nothing." 

Blair sat back, removing his hand from Jim's. He leaned over his plate and took a bite of eggs and then some juice. While he buttered his toast, he talked softly. "It's not you." 

"I should've taken more time, made sure you were into it." 

"You're a great lover. It's not that. It's just that I'm not a morning person. You know that." Casually, he took a bite of toast, more egg, and then juice before wiping his mouth. He motioned at Jim's plate with his fork and added, "You need to eat before the eggs get cold." 

"I'll eat in a minute. We've made love every morning for six months. Every single morning. This is the first time you've never been with me." 

After another few bites, Blair shook his head. "No, it's not, man. It's just the first time you've ever noticed." 

"What? You're kidding, right?" 

"It's no big deal, Jim. I don't mind being there to make you happy. Just because I don't get off every time, doesn't mean you have to go without it." 

His whole body choked at the words, the sudden realization of his own ignorance gripping his heart. "So, you're saying this isn't the first time?" 

Finishing the egg, Blair ate another slice of toast before he answered. "I'm saying that I don't want you to ever feel like I'm rejecting you just because I'm not in the mood. So, sometimes, yeah, I just let you do what you want and then we're both happy. You need it, and I like being there for you. So, what's the problem?" 

The calmness of the tone, the reasonable nature of the words scared him. Blair's answers made sense and yet they didn't. "It's not making love. It's just fucking." 

"Just fucking?" Blair's face flushed, his body suddenly tense. 

"Yeah. I might as well be jerking off alone." 

"Oh really? Well, excuse the fuck out of me then. Shit." Throwing the napkin on the table, Blair stood up and carried his plate to the sink as he ran the water to start the dishes. His whole body stood rigid as he leaned in, his head down and bracing himself with his outstretched arms. Stepping in beside him, Jim edged closer. "Don't touch me, man." 

"I won't. Look, I just meant that if you're not in the mood, just tell me. Don't let me just do that because you think you have to." 

"I don't _have_ to do anything, Jim. Whatever I do, I do it because I want to." He switched off the faucet and reached for a towel, his hand shaking. "I can't believe you're making such a big deal over this. Just fucking? Jesus. I don't believe you sometimes." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I love you." 

The deep sigh came with the sagging against him, Blair's arms wrapping around his middle as his head rested on his shoulder. "I love you, too, man. I don't want to fight." 

He kissed the top of his lover's head, the light almond and herbal scent tingled his lips. "Me, either. Let's just call a truce and talk about this later." 

"Uhm, sounds like a good idea. Wish I'd thought of it." 

"Smart ass." 

"Asshole." 

A hand slipped down and pinched his ass through the denim, the other hand massaging his left butt cheek. His cock twitched at the invitation, but he pushed his suddenly playful partner away and stared down. "We'll talk tonight then, okay?" 

"Sure. Whatever." A firm shove pushed him back toward the table. "Now go eat. It's going to be a long day. Those updated reports have to be ready for Doyle by this afternoon." 

"Okay." Settling back to the table, he watched as Blair cleaned up the cooking area, his face focused and determined, but his eyes far away. He'd seen that look too many times not to recognize that his partner had more than just work on his mind. Eating the cold eggs and toast, he finished up quickly and vowed to stop taking the man he loved for granted. Not in the mood, huh? Well, he'd fix that in no time. 

* * *

"Sure hope Megan's feeling better this morning." Blair sorted through the thick files as he sat at his desk right next to Jim's. 

"She should be. She seemed fine later on." 

"Yeah, but it's not like her to be green like that at a crime scene. Though I have to admit, it was kind of nice having company while I puked for a change." 

"We all have those moments, Chief. You're not the only one who's ever lost it, and these scenes have been rougher than usual." 

"I know that." Blair handed him a folder and then leaned back in his chair. "I just hope it's not something else. Megan's a lot like you in the iron stomach arena. It takes a lot to throw her off like that." 

"Yeah, I know. She has been a little more squeamish than usual." From a short distance, he smelled the cigar scent of his approaching captain. He spoke as he swiveled around to see his friend come up from behind him. "So, Simon, how's Megan?" 

"Much better, thanks." Lowering his voice just a little, Simon asked, "Why don't you two come into my office for a minute. I've got something I have to tell you." 

"About the case, sir?" 

"No. Something personal." The larger man walked on past the desk as Jim glanced over to see the puzzled expression on his partner's face. 

"Sure." Rising at the same time, Jim and Blair fell in behind their friend. Closing the door, Jim sat down at the table while his captain took off his coat and started making coffee. Blair stood by the window and then started pacing while he nervously watched Simon taking too much time to fill the machine with water. "So, what's up, sir?" 

Clearing his throat, Simon sat down behind his desk and rubbed his forehead. "You two know Megan and I have been dating for awhile now, right?" 

"Sure." Jim frowned, wondering why his captain would bring up a subject they'd all been avoiding over the last few months. 

"Well, we were thinking about getting married in a couple of weeks." 

"Oh, my god, Simon. That's so cool." Blair grinned and stepped up to the desk, his body dancing with energy. 

"Settle down, Sandburg." 

"But this is great news. Why the long face?" 

Simon looked over at Jim, his eyes pleading for rescue. "Let him finish, Chief." 

"Thanks. Look, we were going to wait, but then something unexpected came up." 

Blair's head tilted as he studied his captain, his face suddenly shifting to surprise. "Oh, my god. She's pregnant." 

"We were going to get married anyway." The words came out defensive. 

"It's okay, man. This is so cool. You're going to be a dad all over again. Have you told Daryl?" 

"Settle down, Chief. Let the man talk for a minute." 

Startled, Blair grinned and nodded. "Sure, no problem. Wow. A baby." 

Simon finally smiled, his tension easing. "Yeah, wow, or something like that. I have to admit it threw me. We'd talked about it, but decided to wait, but nature had other plans looks like." 

"As long as it's what you two want, Captain, it'll work out." 

"Yeah, I know, Jim. It's just, well, I'm so much older than she is, and then there's Daryl. I'm not sure how he's going to react to having a little sister or brother." 

A sudden image flashed in Jim's mind, a round dark face with brown eyes and long soft curls. A little girl's voice giggled and he smiled. "A little sister, Simon." 

"What?" 

"A sister. I can see her. She's going to be beautiful and healthy." 

"You can see that?" 

"Yeah. I can't explain it, but it's a clear picture." 

Simon shook his head and smiled even bigger. "No shit? A girl. I hope you're right, Jim, I mean about the healthy part especially." 

"Yeah, man, Megan's going to make a great mom and we already know you're a cool father." Blair crossed his arms around his middle as he worked to control his energy. "So, what kind of wedding are you planning? You need music, catering, and flowers, and I've got names, man." 

"Thanks, kid. I'm leaving that mainly up to Megan. We really haven't thought that much ahead. We just decided to try to keep it small, our best friends and family. She's calling her dad today and then taking some leave time." 

"That's a good idea, Captain." He hesitated before he asked the next question. "So, is she going to be transferring to another department?" 

Happy face gone, Simon turned to check the coffee. "We haven't decided yet. She'll probably transfer." 

"But why?" 

"If we get married, I can't be her boss, Blair. Hell, we weren't even supposed to be dating." 

Hard reality settled his features as the younger man stepped to the window. "So, you can't just keep working together as a couple, like Jim and me, right?" 

"It's not the same, Chief." 

"Yeah, I know. We're not legally married." 

Shit. "Chief, listen." 

Holding up his hand, he shrugged. "It's okay. I'm just really happy for you and Megan, Simon. Let me know if there's anything I can do." Without meeting his eyes, Blair walked out past both men, closing the door behind him. In the bullpen he settled at his desk, picked up the files, and started to enter data at his computer. 

After a few moments, Simon spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, Jim." 

"I know. The law's not your fault." 

"No, but I thought he was over it." 

"I don't think he'll ever be over it, sir. And to be honest, I won't be either, not really. We should be able to get married like anybody else." 

"I agree. Maybe you should go talk to him." 

"I will. Later." Jim turned, his face grim, but working to smile as he reached out his hand. "Congratulations, Simon. I mean it." 

Shaking hands, Simon laughed. "Thanks. I just hope I'm not too old for this shit." 

"You're never too old to get your ass kicked by love, sir." 

"That's a nice thought." 

"But if you're lucky, you get it kissed, too." 

"Out of my office, detective." 

"Very good, sir." Jim couldn't help laughing as he wickedly imagined his captain's butt getting one hell of a good smooch job from Megan Conner soon to be Megan Conner Banks. 

* * *

Sitting in the Dim Sum Palace, Jim finished his last bit of Chinese dumpling and watched his partner stare out the window. "You're awfully quiet, Chief." 

"I'm just thinking." 

"About?" 

"Just things." 

"What kind of things?" 

Blair turned, his face less dreamy and more focused. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to drop the conversational ball. I'm just tired." 

"Yeah. You haven't been sleeping all that great." 

"When we get a chance to sleep that is. Between the late hours and the gruesome details, I'm thinking this is about the worst case we've ever worked on." 

"I'd have to agree with you on that." He poured some more tea and then leaned forward and spoke between sips. "I've been a cop for awhile now, and I have to admit this has to be about the sickest fuck I've ever gone after." 

"It's not just the murders, man. It's all the stuff that leads up to it. Look at Paul Donovan. Despite all the shit the guy did to him, he's still trying to defend and protect him. He knows what Reardon did to the other boys, but he doesn't care. It's like he doesn't even recognized it as real." 

"That's because he doesn't. He's been completely conditioned by Reardon to see him as lord and master, to not question anything he ever told him to do or say. The murdered boys don't count in his mind. If they did, he'd be helping us find the bastard." 

"Well, I'm hoping Doyle can help out. He was great on the Thompson case. I know we're not getting very far as it is." 

"Maybe Donovan will open up more to a shrink." 

"Maybe. We need all the help we can get. Every time I think Paul's going to finally tell me something important, he shuts down." 

Putting his cup down, Jim finished his rice and then spoke quietly. "You know you're pretty good with the kid, Blair. He talks more to you than to me or the other cops. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have half of what we do have." 

Blair crossed his arms, his eyes still preferring the window to Jim. "It's still not enough. We've got a few names of possible hangouts and where he might go next, but not enough to stop him. I just keep hoping he'll break and tell us what we need. I'm convinced Paul knows enough to get this guy, but he just keeps holding back." 

"But the main thing is he trusts you more than us. You've done a good job, Chief. Don't beat yourself up." 

"I'm not. I'm just tired of the whole thing taking so long. It's been over a month of nothing but bodies and torture scenes and then finally Paul shows up out of nowhere. It makes me sick just thinking about all the things he and the other kids went through. And, it doesn't help that the press is still all over the place looking for anything to sell a newspaper." 

"I know. It's been ugly." He paused for a moment before he added, "Is that why you haven't been in the mood? The case getting to you?" 

Blair turned, his face startled. "What?" 

"I said is the case the reason you're not in the mood lately?" 

"I heard what you said, but I just can't believe you said it. The case has nothing to do with us or our sex life. Jesus. Is that all you ever think about?" His voice strained the words, his body tensed and pushing back from the table. 

"Don't get pissed." 

"I'm not." 

"You sound like it." 

He pushed back an escaped strand of hair. "I'm not pissed, just surprised. Why does everything seem to revolve around our sex life? It didn't used to." 

"We didn't used to have a sex life together before six months ago, Chief. At least not one we admitted to." 

Relaxing a little, Blair shrugged. "That's true." The younger man scooted his chair closer, his voice lower, more intimate than before. "Listen, this is just really hard for me to talk about, especially here and now. Can't we please leave this until later?" 

Jim touched his hand lightly and then brushed back his hair before sitting back. "Just as long as we talk about it, sure." 

"I told you we would." 

"All right then. I guess we should get back to the station." 

"Jim?" 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry about the pissy stuff earlier in Simon's office." 

"It's okay. You were upset. To tell the truth, I was a little upset myself." 

Blue eyes glanced up and met his. "Yeah?" 

"Sure." Leaning in again, Jim spoke in a hush. "Don't you know I'd marry you in a heartbeat if I could?" 

"But we can't." 

"I know, but we could still have a commitment ceremony." The catch in his lover's breathing made him smile. "We could take the vows we took in private and do them again in front of our friends. Would you like that?" 

"But you said you didn't see the point of doing that since we'd already done it for ourselves." 

Disregarding the rule of no public displays of affection, he smiled as he took his friend's hand and kissed it. "Mark it in on your calendar, Chief, because this may never happen again, but I was wrong about that." 

"You really want to?" 

"Yeah, Blair, I do. I know I said the ritual didn't mean much before, but I forgot how important it is to you. And, if that's what you want, it's what I want, too." 

The younger man squeezed his hand, his face suddenly brighter and more playful. "So, you want to marry me, huh?" 

"Yeah, if you'll have me." 

"I think I've had you once or twice already, man, but it's a deal." 

His neck flushed from the sultry tone of his lover's voice. At that moment Jim wanted to take Blair home and make love to him over and over, to kiss and caress every inch of his body as long as he'd let him. "I love you." 

"I know. I love you, too." Blair rubbed his hand on Jim's shoulder when he whispered, "I want you to go into the bathroom and I'll be there in a minute." 

"I can go to the bathroom on my own." 

"Just go in and wait for me." 

Suddenly suspicious, but enchanted by the sexy command, he did what Blair told him. Once there, he relieved himself and finished washing his hands just as Blair came in and locked the door behind him, his pupils dilated, his hair down, his face determined and predatory. "Chief? What are you up to?" 

"Same thing you're up to if I'm lucky." 

"What?" 

He edged closer, his hand guiding and backing Jim to the wall. Shoving his groin against his, he whispered, "I want you, man. Right here. Right now." 

Cupping his face, Jim captured his lips, his tongue pushing in hard and hungry. The sweet ginger singed his throat as he pulled back and complained. "We can't, Chief. We're in a public restroom for christsakes." 

The younger man ground against him and laughed, the chuckle low and husky. "I know we are. Lee owes me a favor. No one's coming in here until we're finished." Moving his hand down, he unzipped Jim's pants as he slid to his knees. 

"God, Blair. I don't know." 

"I do." Using both hands he released his erection, the heat a spiral up his middle, the aching tug of his cock adding pressure to his spine. Blair licked the slit, the single contact pure electric sizzle, his body shuddering as hands fondled his balls. His whole mouth took him in, teeth and tongue working in perfect unison, the suction giving friction to the rhythm of his bobbing head. Shimmers rocked his vision, light fluttering up with the waves of tension, the tightness strangling his air, the beating of his heart wild. Holding on to dark curls, he rode the pumping, bucking his hips into the world of Blair, into the steamy pleasure between those full lips sucking him, ripping his coming from his very bones. 

Stunned into stillness, his legs wouldn't hold him and he found himself sitting down with his knees up. His back still pressed the wall as Blair's arms held him, that gentle voice calling his name with an intimate hush that shivered his brain. 

"Jim, it's okay, man. I love you. I'm yours. Forever." 

He heard the words repeated until finally he could lift a hand and touch the face of the man he loved more than anyone. "Jesus, Chief." 

"You're welcome." The smile covered his lips for a moment before pulling away. "I think we should get cleaned up before we go back to work, huh?" 

"Back to work?" 

"Brain not on line yet?" 

"Give me a minute." 

"Sure." 

Awareness of the cold tile against his bare ass zoomed in fast and he finally took several deep breaths before shifting to stand up. Blair got there first and offered a hand and some wet towels. As he took them, he watched as his partner turned and scrubbed his hands and face at the sink, taking time to rinse his mouth several times. Awkwardly Jim wiped himself off and then pulled up his pants, his mind still a bit stunned. By the time he finished washing his own hands, Blair had his hair tied back again and stood by the door. "Come on, Jim. We're going to be late." 

"We've got time, Chief. Don't worry." 

"I'm not." 

As he dried his hands and followed his partner out, he stayed quiet until they got inside the truck. Finally, he asked, "What just happened?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean, I know what just happened." 

"I should hope so or I'm losing my touch." 

Frowning, Jim shook his head. "I'm not talking about that." 

"Then what are you talking about?" 

"I just feel like there's something wrong with this whole thing." 

Blair turned to him, his voice tense again. "What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying you didn't like it?" 

"I'd be a liar to say that. Damn near took my head off when I came, but then you knew it would. That kind of thing always puts me out of commission. Is that what you wanted so I wouldn't be able to do anything back?" 

Taking a deep breath before he answered, Blair's words came out very soft. "I don't know why you're doing this, but I wish you'd stop." 

"Stop doing what?" 

"Making it sound like I'm trying to control you with sex, like I'm some kind of devious bastard who has this all planned out. I went down on you because I wanted to, because I love you, you asshole, not because I planned it for some manipulative reason. Why the fuck would I do that?" Blair opened the door and started to get out. 

"Wait, Blair. I'm sorry. Don't go." 

"Man, you're making me crazy. I'll walk back to the station." 

"Don't. It's freezing and we need to talk. I'm just worried." 

"About what?" 

"About losing you. About fucking this thing up. Wouldn't be the first time." He touched his lover's arm, his voice low and pleading. "Please, don't leave." 

Slamming the door shut, Blair met his eyes, the blue slightly misted. "I'll never leave you, Jim. You're the one who's acting like he's not happy with the way things are. Maybe you're projecting that into me. Maybe it's you who's thinking about leaving." 

"No way, Chief. It's just we've been friends longer than we've been lovers and things are going on between us that I don't understand. That kind of scares me." 

Bowing his head to his hands, Blair shook his head as he spoke. "Jim, please. Just let it go for awhile, okay? I can't talk about all this right now, not and go back to work." 

"Okay, but you do realize there's a problem and it's not just in my head, right?" 

"I realize you think there's a problem." He lifted his head, his face still flushed. "Look, let's just go back to the station for now. We'll hash all this other stuff out later." 

"I'd never leave you, Chief." 

"I know that." 

"Do you?" 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"Damn it, I need you to know so." 

"I'm trying, Jim. Now, can we drop it?" 

"For now." 

"Fine." 

"Fine." But as Jim gripped the steering wheel, he knew it was anything but fine between them. 

* * *

"Well, you've done a great job so far considering the extent of trauma the boy's been through." 

Jim paced impatiently at the window of Simon's office as Dr. Ricky Doyle sat across the table studying the boy's file. The guy didn't look much older than Blair, but was more slim, his hair sandy-colored and fine, his face pale, almost feminine, his eyes a golden brown. Jim knew the mild-mannered appearance to be deceptive. Doyle saw things, figured things out even when a person didn't want him to. Sometimes it made him paranoid just to be in the same room with such a tricky son of a bitch, but then, since the last fiasco with the military, most shrinks made him nervous. "We still haven't found Reardon." 

"I know that, detective, but what we've got here is a boy who's been so abused, he's been conditioned to believe that if he helps you, he's betraying the one person who ever loved him." 

"And that would be Reardon?" 

"Right." Setting the papers aside, Doyle turned to Blair. "I've talked briefly to Paul and he says he wants you to be there when I talk to him again. Is that okay with you?" 

"Sure. It's not a problem." 

"Good. He seems to trust you. I think we can use that both for finding Reardon and helping Paul get through this afterwards." 

"I'll do whatever I can." Blair leaned forward, his hands on the table, his face strained. "I just wish I could get him to tell us how many more boys Reardon has and where he might take them." 

"Well, we've found three other victims, all boys of around fifteen and sixteen. All who look like Paul. I'm thinking that the perp seems to keep to a pattern, both in the selection and the ritualized killing." 

Jim rubbed his chin, tilting his head as he studied Doyle and smiled. "You sound like a cop." 

"I was a cop, remember? Now, I'm a pyschologist who helps cops." 

"Sounds like a tough job, man." Blair shuffled the files as he spoke, his movements nervous. 

"It is, but it's no tougher than yours. I just decided I made a better counselor than a cop, but this way I can help the victims as well as the officers involved." 

Simon entered the office, cigar in hand, testy mood stressing his voice. "Well, we just got word from forensics. There's a match on the soil we found on all three victims. He's killing them all in the same place, but transporting them to where we find the bodies later." 

"We already suspected that." Jim crossed his arms, his need for a breakthrough growing stronger. 

"Yeah, well, now we know for sure. It might give us a lead if we can find out where he's going to kill the next one." Simon turned his attention to Doyle and Blair at the table. "So, have you two come up with some kind of plan to convince the Donovan kid to open up?" 

"We're working on it, Captain. Blair has already agreed to stay with me on this. Paul seems to have transferred some of his affection in his direction." 

"What?" Blair sat up straighter, his face puzzled. 

"You didn't notice that, Chief?" 

"Notice what?" 

"The kid has a huge crush on you." 

"Shit." 

Doyle touched his arm lightly as he spoke, his voice professional and smooth. "Don't be alarmed. It's just that Paul's very vulnerable right now. I've never seen you with him yet, but just from my first impressions, I'd imagine he sees you as the first person to show him any kindness since he was picked up." 

"But I haven't been any nicer than anyone else." 

"Maybe, but for whatever reason, he likes and trusts you. What I need to do is see how you interact and figure out a way to make him understand that we're here to help, not hurt him." 

"So, you're saying you want me to talk to him while you watch behind the curtain, right?" 

"Curtain?" 

"Metaphorically. You'll be in the observation room while I'm attempting to create a stronger psychological symbiosis to make for a more effectual transference to an appropriate support person later." 

Jim watched the doctor study his partner, smiling with amusement as he saw the man put off kilter by Blair's response. "He does that sometimes, doc." 

"What?" 

"Uses big words. We're trying to get him to stop, but he's addicted." 

"Funny, Jim." 

"Come on, Chief. I'm used to you. It's just fun to see how others react when they enter the Sandburg zone for the first time." 

Doyle smiled and sat back, more relaxed with his arm on the back of the chair. "So, how long have you two been partners again?" 

"Blair started riding along three years ago." 

"Riding along?" 

"Yeah, I'm not really a cop." 

"You're not?" 

"I'm just a consultant." 

"But on the Thompson case, I thought you were Ellison's partner." 

"I am. But I'm still not a cop, not officially anyway." 

Simon chimed in. "Yeah, but they're the best team I have. I figure if it works, don't fix it." 

"But how do you get around all the paper work and official channels?" 

Jim shrugged, the thought of losing his partner because of bureaucrats always scary. "We manage, thanks to Simon." 

"And thanks to having the best arrest record in the state." 

Blair's serious voice broke the rhythm of the chatter. "I'll be happier when that record includes catching Reardon." 

"We all will." Jim stepped closer to the table to stand behind Blair, his hand on his shoulder, the slightest of shudders not noticeable to anyone but a sentinel. 

Standing up, Doyle got his folders and smiled. "Then ladies, let's go to the dance and see what's playing." 

* * *

"Hi, Blair. I was afraid you might not come back." 

"I said I would." 

"Yeah, but not everyone tells the truth, or hadn't you noticed?" The boy sat on the couch, his knees up to his chin as he hugged them. A long strand of stubborn brown hair repeatedly fell across his forehead and he pushed it back, his hands constantly moving. Despite his youth, his broad shoulders pushed against the white T-shirt, his muscular biceps taut and straining the cloth, his long legs taking up most of the sofa. 

"When I say something, I mean it, Paul." 

"I'd like to believe that." 

"That's always a good starting point." Blair settled into the chair opposite Paul and leaned forward. "So, how are you feeling this morning? Sleeping okay?" 

"Not really. The beds suck and there's no cable." 

"It's hard when you come to a new place." 

"I should be used to it. I moved around all the time with my mom." 

"Yeah? You don't talk about your mom much." 

"She's dead now. What's to talk about?" 

"How you feel about her being dead for one thing." 

"I don't feel much at all right now." 

"That's understandable. You've been through a lot." 

He shifted again, his dark eyes jumpy as he stole glances in Blair's direction. "That other guy was here this morning. Said he was some kind of doctor, a shrink, I think." 

"Dr. Doyle. He's a psychologist." 

"I don't need anybody like that." 

"It might be good to have someone to talk to." 

"I've got you." 

He steeled himself against the urge to look over at the observation window, the urge to get some kind of signal about what he should do next. Instead, he took a deep breath and kept his voice calm and forged ahead, praying he didn't mess up. "I appreciate that you trust me like that, Paul. It's just I'm not really trained to help you like he is." 

"I don't want to talk to him. I'll talk to you." 

"Would you mind if he's here sometimes while we talk?" 

Brown eyes stared at him, the shadows grey almost to his cheeks. "And what if I said no?" 

"Then he wouldn't be here." 

"Really?" 

"Really. But, I'd feel better if he were here to help out. I'm not really sure what to say sometimes." 

"You do okay." The words came out shyly as Paul picked at the blanket draped on the back of the couch. 

"Thanks." Blair rubbed his face twice, the fatigue pulling at him as he fought to stay focused. "Look, Paul, we need your help. We need to know more about Reardon." 

"I don't want to talk about him." 

"I understand that. He hurt you." 

"Michael loved me." 

"Then why'd you run away?" 

Paul met his eyes, the tears already starting to brim at the corner of his eyes. "I was afraid. I didn't want to die and I knew I was going to be next." 

"So, you ran, but from where?" 

"I can't tell you that." 

"Why not?" 

"I don't really remember. It's all fuzzy." Turning around, the boy put his feet on the floor and dropped his head to his hands, his words choked. "It was so dark, man, so fucking dark. I heard him doing Eric and I knew when he was done, he'd come for me and then he'd kill me. I wasn't strong enough." 

"Strong enough for what?" 

"To let him send me to heaven like he did with the others." 

Blair covered his mouth with his fist, his body suddenly flushed with anger. Finally, he controlled himself enough to speak without the rage shredding the words. "You're a strong person, Paul. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not. Reardon had no right to hurt you or the other boys." 

"In my head I know that, but you don't understand. He was so good to me sometimes. I liked a lot of what he did." 

"Good to you how?" 

"He made me feel special." He swallowed hard and took the offered Kleenex. After he blew his nose, he started talking again, his voice dragging the words. "You don't know what it was like before Michael found me." 

"Then tell me." 

"I never knew my dad. Mom said it didn't matter, but it did. She wasn't home much, but when she was, she usually had some new daddy to play with." Paul raised his head and asked, "Do you know what I mean by a daddy?" 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. A guy to take care of her." 

"Yeah, only sometimes he wanted to take care of me, too, but not like a dad should, you know? I lost count of how many times that shit happened. The last time was right before Michael came along. He saved me from all that mess." 

Moving in closer to the edge of his seat, Blair spoke softly. "Listen, Paul, what those men did at your mom's house shouldn't have happened, but you told me before that Reardon hurt you, too." 

"Yeah, well, only when I needed it. I'm no angel. I get on people's nerves sometimes. But, after he punished me, he always loved me." 

"Nobody deserves to get hit." 

"It wasn't that bad. He just had a temper, that's all." 

"Did he lose it a lot?" 

"Just when I acted up.' 

"Acted up?" 

"Yeah, you know, whenever I didn't want to do what he wanted. Sometimes he'd get really pissed and call me names and force me to do it anyway." He closed his eyes while he spoke, his hands in tight fists on his knees. "I didn't like doing it with the other guys." 

"He made you have sex with the other boys?" 

"Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted me to do things to them, really bad things." 

"How did you feel about that?" 

"It's weird. I hated doing it, but I liked it when Michael told me how good I was, like I was his favorite. Mostly, he liked watching at first, but then he'd join in." 

"How many other boys where there when you first went with Reardon?" 

"Four." 

"Eric was one. Who were the others?" 

"Bobby, Cory, and Aaron. I like Aaron a lot. He has a cool sense of humor." 

Blair moved to the couch and sat right beside the boy as he spoke, his voice soft and guide-like. "Listen to me, Paul. We need to find where Reardon has Aaron before he hurts him. He's already killed the others." 

"I know, but I can't." 

Shaking, he didn't pull away as Blair put his arm around him. "You can. Just try to remember where he took you." 

He lifted his head, the tears streaming down to his chin. "If I tell you, will you promise the cops won't kill him and that you won't leave me?" 

Blair looked at the observation window before he spoke, his eyes aimed to where he thought Jim might stand. "If I gave you that promise, I'd be lying. There's no way I can say that. But, what I can promise is that my partner will do everything to make sure he's brought in alive." 

"Your partner Jim? The big guy who never says much?" 

"Yeah." 

"You trust him?" 

"With my life." 

The boy's body sagged against him before he whispered between the soft sobs. "Okay. Just don't leave me." 

"I won't. I'm right here." He hugged harder as the boy cried and gave out the address of a place just a few miles short of the North Woods. 

* * *

"How you doing, Chief?" Jim poured himself some coffee as he kept an eye on Blair sitting at the break room table. 

"I'm fine." Blair ran his fingers along the edge of the table, his eyes not focused on the room. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Sitting down in the chair next to him, Jim held his cup with both hands. "You did a great job with Paul today." 

"Thanks." 

"It's not your fault we didn't get there in time to save the other kid." 

"I know that." 

"We at least got Reardon. We caught him at the scene with enough evidence that we really won't even need Paul to testify. The bastard will rot in prison if some other asshole doesn't kill him first." 

Blair met his eyes, his face drawn as he spoke quietly. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?" 

"I'm just saying that it's over. The guy's not going to get bail and he's never going to be free to hurt another kid. So, yeah, it should make you feel better." 

"Over? You really believe that?" 

"I don't understand." 

Blair stood up, his hands running through his hair before he wrapped his arms around his middle. He paced several times before he finally spoke. "It's not over, Jim. Paul Donovan has to live with what that guy did to him for the rest of his life." 

"I get that part." 

"Do you?" 

"Yeah, I do, but we can't do much about that. That's up to people like Doyle to deal with." 

"And me." 

"Why you?" 

"Because I promised. I told him I'd be there to help." 

"Yeah, but that's just until Doyle can win him over." 

"That could be awhile. Trust isn't going to be easy for him." 

Jim sat back, his own arms crossed. "So, what you're saying is that you're still going to be working with him for awhile." 

"Yeah." 

"Do you think that's really a good idea?" 

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

"I don't know. Maybe because ever since this kid's come on the scene, you've been acting strange." 

"Strange?" 

"Yeah, strange, like jumpy and nervous and now this thing between us." 

"Damn it, Jim, don't bring that into this. I'm upset because of the case, not because of Paul." 

"But Paul is part of the case, a very big part of it. You've been right there since we found him, holding him, taking care of him, listening to all the godawful shit he's told us. It hurt me to hear it, but he wasn't telling it to me. He was telling it to you and that's got to make a difference in the impact. I don't think it's any coincidence that the nightmares started after he came into the picture. You're too close to this, Chief. You need to back away and let Doyle and the other counselors take over." 

"I can't do that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because he needs me." 

"He needs somebody, but that doesn't mean it has to be you." 

Blair sat back down at the table, still avoiding Jim's eyes, still holding his shoulders back and his muscles tight. "Are you saying you don't want me to help him if I can?" 

"No, I'm just saying, let Doyle take the lead and get away as fast as you can. I don't like seeing what it's doing to you." 

"I'm sorry, man. I don't know why it's screwing with me as bad as it is." He covered his eyes with one hand as he spoke, his words terse and quick. "I should be able to handle this better." 

"Why?" 

"Why?" The question brought his head up and around to face Jim. "Because you can. If I'm going to work in this world, I'm going to run into shit like this. I need to be able to deal with it without becoming a head case." 

"But you're not like me, Chief. I've been trained to distance myself from these kinds of situations." 

"And that's what I'm trying to do." 

"But that's not you. One of your strengths is being able to see the victim's point of view. It helps us get what we need to catch the perps, but it's also what gets you in trouble sometimes. You've got to learn when to stop. Learn not to take so much of it on yourself. Like with Paul. From the first meeting, it was like you knew exactly what to say and the kid senses that you really care. The thing is, that's the dangerous part." 

"It's not dangerous to care." 

"It is if you get sucked in and can't pull back enough to protect yourself from whatever stuff this case is stirring up." 

"Nothing's being stirred up. It's just a god awful case." 

"You're sure?" 

"I'm positive." 

Nodding, Jim drank some of his coffee and stood up. "It has been bad." 

"The worst." 

"Yeah, and it's late. Why don't we go get something to eat and then go home?" 

"Doyle wants me to go see Paul one more time tonight, tell him about Reardon's arrest. He wants to sit in the room this time." 

"This can't wait until morning?" 

"We don't want him to see it on the news." 

"He might already have." 

"Then I should be there." 

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" 

For the first time in the conversation, Blair smiled. "I've been taking lessons from the best." 

"You calling me stubborn?" 

"Might be." 

"No might be to it. You did." 

"So?" 

"I'm not arguing. Just remember it when you try to tap dance your way around what we're going to be talking about tonight." 

The playful face vanished, replaced by an angry mask. "Man, you need to just let it go, Jim." 

He stepped closer, his mouth near his ear. "I'm not letting it go, Blair. As soon as you're done with Donovan, we're going home and figure this thing out." 

"There's nothing to figure out." 

"So you say." 

"Hey, guys. Mind if I hitch a ride out to the center?" Doyle walked up, files in hand, his face tired but still cheerful. He stopped smiling when he took in their faces. "Is something wrong?" 

"Why don't you ask my partner." 

"Shut up, Jim." 

"Oookay. Maybe I should take my own car." 

"It's all right, doc. Maybe while we're driving, you can have a session with Sandburg here and explain why he needs to back away from this thing with Donovan." 

"You think that's a problem, detective?" 

"Don't you?" 

"I think Blair did a great job with Paul today." 

"Thanks." 

"I didn't say you didn't, Chief, but I still think you're too close to this mess." 

"Give it a rest." 

"Jim's right, Blair. You were right in there today. It had to be tough." 

"But I want to help." 

"I know you do, and I appreciate that, but if it's causing some personal problems, then maybe you need to back away a little. I'd understand." 

"But Paul wouldn't. And I'm fine." He barked the last part at Jim before storming off, his hands fisted to his sides as he headed to the garage. 

"I'm sorry, doctor. He's not usually like this." 

"I know. It's been a rough case, though." He continued to talk as he and Jim walked to the elevator. "You two have been on this for several weeks now, right?" 

"Yeah. It's been pretty intense, but Blair was handling it okay until we got all the personal reports from Donovan. Sick doesn't begin to cover it." 

"And you're worried about him?" 

"Yeah. He's not sleeping. And there are other things." 

"Other things?" 

"Things I can't really talk about. Let's just say, he's not acting like himself." 

As they got in the elevator, Doyle spoke softly. "If you don't mind my asking, how long have you two been lovers?" 

"What?" 

"I'm not asking for any personal thrill, Jim, and it's confidential. I'm not trying to judge your relationship here, but it may have a bearing on why this is affecting him so much." 

"Only six months." 

"Do you know much about his history?" 

"Not really. He knows everything about me, but he doesn't talk much about himself." 

"But you're concerned about him now?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

"Well, he's under a lot of strain, I could see that today when he worked with Paul. If it'll help, I'll watch more closely and see what I can do, okay?" 

"I appreciate it." 

"No problem. It's what I'm here for." 

"I thought you were here to help the kid." 

"I work with survivors and the officers involved, Jim. Sometimes they're the same thing." 

* * *

"Paul, you remember Dr. Doyle?" 

"Yeah, I remember." The boy stood in the corner of the small room, his back to the wall, his arms crossed. "So, did you arrest Michael?" 

"He's in jail now. We didn't get there in time to save Aaron though." 

"That's too bad." The words didn't sound upset, just flat and simple. "Has he asked to see me?" 

"Who? Reardon?" 

"Yeah, I mean, he knows I'm the one who turned him in, right? So, has he asked to see me yet?" 

Doyle stepped nearer and then sat down in one of the chairs close to Paul. "Do you want to see him?" 

"Maybe. I mean, I'd like to make sure he's okay." 

"He's fine, man. He got a few bruises from resisting, but I promised Jim would do his best to bring him in alive." Blair motioned at the couch with his hand. "Why don't you sit down?" 

"Sure, if you do." Blair nodded and settled into the chair opposite the couch while Paul slumped down and then tucked his legs up under him. "So, what happens now?" 

"What do you want to happen?" Doyle's question sparked an angry response. 

"What the fuck to do you care? I don't even know you." 

"Paul, settle down, man. Dr. Doyle's a friend." 

"Of yours?" 

"Yeah, he works with us on tough cases. He only wants to help. You can trust him." 

"I don't need his help and I don't trust him. I trust you." 

"Then trust my judgment, too. He can help." 

"Whatever." Pushing his hair back again, he whispered. "I'm sorry, man. I'm just not sure what to do. I mean, my mom's dead. Where am I going to live without Michael?" 

"We're trying to find relatives. In the meantime you can stay here or in a temporary placement. You don't have to worry about that. You're safe now." 

"There aren't any relatives. I told you that before. Besides, nobody's going to want me after what happened." 

"What happened wasn't your fault, Paul. You haven't done anything wrong." 

"Yeah? Then why am I a prisoner then?" 

"You're not. We just want to make sure you're protected until things are sorted out." 

Blair leaned in far enough to touch his shoulder and found Paul holding on, the desperation heavy in each word. "Why can't I stay with you?" 

"Me?" 

"Yeah. I mean, I'm only fifteen, but I can do stuff. I could get a job and help out. You're not married or anything, right?" As he tried to pull his hand away, Paul held on even tighter, his voice pleading. "I could make you happy if you let me. We could live together and everything would be great. I just know it would." 

The sting blurred his vision for just a moment before he found his voice. "Paul, that's not going to happen." 

"Why not?" 

"For one thing, I already live with someone." 

"It's Jim, right?" 

"It doesn't matter who it is." 

"I knew there was a reason I fucking hated him so much. Shit." 

"It's not about Jim and me. It's about the fact that you're not thinking too clearly right now. You've been hurt." 

Jerking away, Paul stood up again and paced the room, his rage barely contained. "You don't give a shit about me. You never did." 

"I'm your friend." 

"But you think because I'm just a kid, I don't know my own feelings, like a fifteen year old kid can't know love when it happens?" 

"I don't believe that. I think your feelings are real, but they're misdirected right now." 

"Misdirected? I'm in love with you. How is that misdirected?" 

"You don't even know me." 

"Sure I do. You know what it's like to be me. I can tell. You're not like the others around here. You listen." 

"That's because I'm your friend." 

"But I want more." 

"There can't be more." 

"Then I'm fucked." 

* * *

'Well, that pretty much sucked big time." 

"You can say that again, Chief." Jim pushed off from the wall and settled down at the table to join both men. "Okay, doc, now what? Obviously this kid's little crush has escalated. Is it still a good idea for Blair to be involved?" 

"Probably not, but it's a tough call. First, I have to ask Blair how he's feeling about all this." 

"How do you think I'm feeling? I'm feeling like I fucked up. I should've seen this coming." 

"Why?" 

"Because he's been abused." 

"And that means what, exactly?" 

"It means he's going to fall for the first guy who pays him any attention. It's how Reardon got his hold on him in the first place. Then I come along and the pattern repeats itself. It's my fault." 

Doyle and Jim exchanged quick glances before Jim leaned forward and shook his head. "This isn't your fault, Blair." 

"But he is right about why Paul's feeling the way he does. Abuse survivors are easy targets for people like Reardon, especially if you add in neglect and lack of a stable environment. What we need to do now is figure out a way of explaining about boundaries and finding a way to build up his self-esteem without him feeling abandoned if Blair leaves." 

Blair took a deep breath as he crossed his arms, his head down as he spoke. "It's not going to be easy. He's going to be hurt any way we go at this. He's already messed up over Reardon, confused about his feelings. In his head he knows what happened was wrong, but that's all confused with his desire to be loved and cared for. He's a child, but he's not, not after all that's happened." 

"He's still a kid, Chief. Being molested and raped doesn't change that." 

"But he's fifteen." 

"So?" 

"So, in some cultures, he's considered a man." 

"Not in this culture. The age of consent is 18. Whatever Reardon did, even if Paul went along, it's still a crime. Plus, we know he made the kid do things he didn't want to do." 

"But that's where the confusion comes in." 

Jim sat back and rubbed his chin, his own bewilderment growing. "Doc, help me out here." 

"I think Blair's saying that in Paul's mind, he had a choice, that by going along with Reardon, he doesn't see it as abuse. A lot of sexual abuse survivors feel that way. It's a way of coping with what happened, but it's also where a lot of the guilt and shame come in." 

Shifting in his chair, still not making eye contact, Blair shrugged as he put both palms down on the table to settle himself. "It's like by making it seem like a choice in your mind, you can handle it better. If you say, I let him do this, then it's not as bad as he forced me. Gives you a little power in the matter. Of course, later you feel like shit because you know it's wrong, but for whatever reason, you just keep doing it. You don't want to be alone, or you're afraid, or you just think you don't really have any other options. And maybe you really do love him or you think he loves you, and you just don't want to risk losing that because it does feel good most of the time. So, you pretend that it's okay, that everything's cool, but you never really believe that." 

Jim's breathing halted as he took in the words, his body too tense to bother with air. After a few moments, he finally whispered. "Shit, Blair. Who are you talking about here? Paul Donovan or yourself?" 

Startled, Blair looked up, his face flushed. "What?" 

"That doesn't sound like something you got out of some psychology book. It sounds personal." 

"I'm just trying to explain where the kid's coming from, Jim." His words rushed out too quickly, clipped and defensive. "Don't try to turn this into something it's not. This isn't about me. It's about trying to help Paul." 

Doyle spoke gently, his voice almost an intrusion in between them. "Why are you so upset by Jim's question?" 

"I'm not." Using both hands to rub his face, Blair took several calming breaths before he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just tired, okay?" 

"Okay, but I do think it might be a good idea to put off seeing Paul again until the two of us have a better chance to talk." 

Blair's eyes narrowed, his head tilted in Doyle's direction and his face wary. "Talk about what?" 

"Whatever we need to so that we can do the best job at helping Paul." 

"Okay. I just don't want to fuck up anymore than I already have." He turned his attention back to Jim, his voice softer. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to snap." 

"Let's go home, Chief. It's been a long day." 

"I'm down with that. I'm so tired, my brain's about to shut down." 

Jim motioned at the door with his head. "Go on. I want to talk to the doc for a minute." 

"Telling secrets, Jim?" 

"None you haven't heard before. Warm up the seats for me." 

"I'll do better than that. I'll warm up the engine and head home if you're not out in five minutes." 

"You would, too." 

"Sure thing." 

As soon as he closed the door, Jim turned to Doyle, his face drawn with concern. "Tell me I'm overreacting here. Tell me I didn't hear what I think I heard." 

"What do you think you heard?" 

"Something that makes me want to either cry or smack the shit out of somebody." 

"And who would that be?" 

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell going to find out." 

* * *

"Hold up a minute, Chief. Where you going?" 

"To the bathroom." 

Jim locked the door and then shrugged off his jacket as he spoke. "You want some tea?" 

"Not really. I just want to take a quick shower and go to bed. It's two in the morning. We have to be in court by nine." 

"I know that, but we haven't talked yet." 

Blair turned and complained, his eyes only half open. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" 

"It's waited all day." 

The younger man nodded and frowned, running his hand back over the wild strands that escaped the tie at the back of his neck. "Well, don't blame me if I fall asleep mid-sentence. I'm about to crash here, man. This whole thing has been like a non-stop adrenaline rush and it's catching up all of a sudden." 

Stepping closer, Jim wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. "I know you're tired, babe. I am, too, but this is really important to me." 

"Why?" 

"Why?" 

"Yeah, why is it so important that we have to talk about all this tonight. It's not like I'm going anywhere." 

"It's important because I'm really worried about you. I can't help it. I know you keep saying nothing's wrong, but I feel it, Blair. I know there's something not right and I have to know what it is or it'll drive me crazy." 

"And me along with it." 

"Probably." 

Taking a deep breath, Blair pushed away and smiled weakly. "Okay, make some tea then. I'll be out in a minute." 

"Any preference?" 

"Green tea." 

"The twiggy stuff in the blue jar?" 

"Yeah." 

"You've got it." 

As Blair headed back to the bathroom, Jim put the kettle on to heat the water. He got the mugs down and busied himself with lighting a fire and a few candles. By the time his partner returned, the place looked downright cozy. "Looks more like a seduction scene, man." 

"Maybe. Here." He handed over the hot drink and sat down on the sofa, patting the place beside him. "Come on. Have a seat and relax." 

Blair pushed back his shower damp hair and shook his head, his curls free and wild around his face. "Relax? If I relax too much, you'll have to either carry me to bed or just leave my ass down here for the night." He settled down in the corner and tucked his legs up as he sipped the tea. "So, what exactly do you want to know, Jim?" 

He hesitated before he spoke, the question he really wanted to ask pushed away for the moment. "A couple of things, but first, I guess I want to know why you think it's okay for me to get off when you don't." 

"I already told you that this morning." 

"Then explain it again, because I have to tell you, Chief, I don't get it." 

"I can see that." 

"Well?" 

"I'm thinking of a way to say it without you getting pissed off again." 

"I'm not pissed off, just confused. Up until now, I thought we had a pretty even thing going. It's one of the things I like best between us, no real power trip." 

"No real power trip? Come on, man, be honest." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Jim, you love being the dominant one." 

"Dominant how? Have I ever forced you to do something?" 

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about that possessive thing you've got going." 

"Possessive thing?" 

"Yeah, where you want me to say you own me." 

Flushing, Jim sat up a little straighter, his posture suddenly defensive. "I thought you liked that." 

"I do. I'm not complaining. But, if we're going to be talking about how we feel, we need to be plain here. We're not even and we never have been. You call the shots about almost every part of our lives, including our sex life. And I'm okay with that." 

"That's how you see us?" 

"That's how it is." 

"Shit." Jim stood up and paced in front of the window, his hand rubbing his chin, his body suddenly charged up. "Okay, you think I'm a control freak, I get that. So, why didn't you say something?" 

"You're pissed." 

"I'm not pissed. I'm just trying to figure this thing out. So, is that why you let me get off even when you're not in the mood, you're afraid I'll get pissed?" 

"Not really." 

"Not really?" 

"I love you, Jim. I want you to be happy. What's wrong with that?" 

"I'm not sure, but there's something not right." 

"Well, when you figure it out, why don't you tell me, because all of a sudden I feel like I can't win here." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, if I do what you want, I'm too passive, and if I don't, there's a problem." 

"I didn't say that." 

"But that's what I heard. Look, I know this case has been hard on both of us, but I've tried not to let that bleed into our sex life, but it did. I'm sorry." 

Jim stepped back to the sofa and settled beside him, his hand stroking up his arm as he whispered, "I love you, Blair. I don't want you to ever think I use you." 

"I don't think that." 

"Then from now on if you're not in the mood, just tell me." 

"But..." 

"Just tell me, babe. Don't you get it?" 

"Get what?" 

"Sex is great, but it's not the most important thing between us. I want you to get as much out of being together as I do. Whatever the reason, I don't want just your body. I want you with me. All of you." 

"Greedy bastard." 

"Yeah, no doubt." He pulled him in to caress his face, his fingers burned by the stubble. "Blair, there's something else I have to ask and I don't want you to get upset." 

"What?" 

"Tonight when you were talking about what it felt like to be abused, you sounded like you knew from experience." 

The body stiffened beside him as Blair pulled away. "Jim, don't." 

"Don't what? Ask if you've ever been abused?" 

"I haven't." 

He took a long breath before he said anything, the words almost too large and prickly to leave his throat. "I don't believe you." 

"You what?" 

"I said I don't believe you. I think you have. I think that this case is bringing it all back to you and you just don't want to deal with it." 

Blair stood up, his eyes flaring with anger, his voice sharp and hateful. "This from the champion of repression?" 

"All the better to understand where you're coming from." 

"You don't know shit about where I'm coming from." 

"Then tell me." 

"You're not going to like it." 

"Try me." 

"When I was fifteen, I had an affair with Eli Stoddard." 

"Fifteen?" 

"Yeah, fifteen, Jim, and Eli was forty-five, but I wasn't abused. I wasn't a kid either, not really. He loved me." 

"Shit." No matter how hard he sucked, the air refused to play nice with his lungs, his chest suddenly too tight and narrow. 

"I'm sorry, man." 

"Is this the same Eli Stoddard who wanted you to go to Borneo, the same guy you called your mentor?" 

"Yeah." 

"Son of a bitch should be in prison, not off doing any kind of fucking expedition." He stood up and put both hands against the wall, the push of solid brick against his palms the only thing keeping him from putting his fists though the glass doors. 

"Calm down, Jim." 

"I don't want to fucking calm down. I want to arrest his sorry ass." 

"You going to arrest me, too, then?" 

"What?" 

"Jim, I lived with him for a whole summer. I loved him." 

Shaking his head, incredulous, Jim argued. "A whole summer? What? You couldn't just go to summer camp like other kids?" 

"This isn't a joke." 

"I'm not joking. You were only fifteen. What the hell do you know about love at fucking fifteen?" 

"Enough to know that I wasn't being abused, not by Eli." 

The phrasing stopped him as his cop mode kicked in. "Not by Eli?" 

"No." 

"Then who?" 

"I told you. I wasn't abused." 

"And I told you I didn't believe you. I still don't. What else aren't you telling me?" 

"Jim, please." Blair sat down on the edge of the couch, his head down in his hands. "I'm too tired to deal with this now. Can't you just let it go? It's over. It's got nothing to do with us." 

Kneeling beside his lover, Jim took his hands and pulled them away so he could lift his face to his. Rubbing his cheek against Blair's, he spoke softly. "I love you and you're one of the smartest people I know, but you're wrong if you think this doesn't affect us. It does." As the younger man started to speak, he shushed and continued. "No more tonight, I promise. Let's just go to bed. We'll deal with this later." 

"There's nothing to deal with." 

"You're wrong." 

Blair pulled away far enough to meet his eyes, his face twisted with both fatigue and confusion. "Let it go, Jim. Please." 

"I can't do that." 

He dropped his forehead against Jim's chest, his voice small and complaining. "God, you make me so tired sometimes." 

Running his fingers through his lover's curls, he kissed the top of his head. "Then just rest, babe. It's going to get better." 

* * *

Abuse. The noisy trapdoor in his brain flapped open to take it in, to try to figure out how he'd missed it. In the time they'd been together, it never once occurred to him that the man he loved might be a survivor of something like that, something so god awful. Sordid scenes rushed up at him, a young man with dark curly hair crying, bleeding, holding himself in a tight ball as he whimpered. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed the hateful images away, denied the possibility. He couldn't take it all in and didn't want to. 

The sting in his eyes added to the blurring as he stirred the sauce in front of him, his mind reeling back over different moments when Blair sat with victims, his soft voice comforting, his words or his silence perfect. It all fit. Blair knew what to do because he'd lived it. 

Shit. 

"Jim?" The words interrupted his thoughts as his lover called from the stairs. 

"Morning, Chief." 

"What are you doing?" 

"Making spaghetti sauce." 

"At seven in the morning?" 

"I couldn't sleep. There's fresh coffee if you want it." 

Blair moved to his side and wrapped an arm around his middle. "I didn't like waking up alone. I missed you." 

"Sorry." 

"It's okay." Blair dipped his finger in the sauce and tasted it, his eyes closed as he licked his finger. "Oregano." 

"More or less?" 

"More. But just a touch." 

"Okay." Taking just a pinch of the spice, he added it and remained silent as Blair hugged him more tightly. 

"I'm sorry about last night." 

"Nothing to be sorry about, Chief." 

"But you're still upset." 

"Yeah, but it's not because of anything you've done." 

"Is it because I told you about Eli?" 

"I don't want to talk about this now. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it." 

"Okay." Blair pulled away and got down a mug for coffee. After he poured, he leaned back on the counter. "So, how long do you think the arraignment will last this morning?" 

"Just long enough to hear the list of evidence we have so far. It's pretty overwhelming stuff. You don't have to go if you don't want." 

"Why wouldn't I want to? I've been on the case since the beginning." 

"I know, but you don't have to make any statements, so why put yourself through it?" 

"Is this because you think I can't handle it?" 

"If I thought you couldn't handle it, I'd have taken you off the case already." Jim picked up his own coffee, his voice still even. "I just thought maybe you should go talk to Dr. Doyle this morning. Maybe iron out a few things and decide what to do about this Donovan situation." 

"Iron out a few things? Like what?" 

"Like why you think it's okay for a fifteen year old to be with a man three times his age." 

Blair put his cup down and folded his arms, his face drawn and angry. "I knew you'd do this." 

"Do what?" 

"Make a big deal out of it. I should never have told you." 

"Yeah? You think that keeping it a secret is supposed to make me believe that you really think there was nothing to hide, that it was just fine and dandy that a kid's being fucked by an old man." 

"That's enough, Jim." 

"I don't think so. It's against the law for a good reason. What would you say if some kid we knew lived with an old guy like that?" 

"Forty five isn't old. You're almost that now." 

"But you're not fifteen, Blair. There's a difference." 

The pain pulled at his features, his brow furrowed, his lips tight. "You don't understand, man." 

"No, I don't. Why don't you explain it to me?" 

"Why bother? I know you. Nothing I say is going to make it okay." 

"You're right, it won't. But, it might give me a better idea of why you think it is." 

Blair closed his eyes and lowered his head as he ran both hands back through his hair. "It was so long ago, man. Another lifetime." 

"Not so long ago, Chief. You almost went to Borneo, remember?" 

His head jerked up, his eyes flashing. "But I didn't, and I'm through with this conversation." 

As he stepped closer to get by, Jim grabbed his arm. "Blair, wait." 

"Let me go." 

"I don't want you to be mad." 

"I'm not. Now, let go." As soon as he loosened his grip, Blair jerked away and headed to the bathroom, but then whirled around, his face flushed and angry. "I can't believe you'd think I'd go back to him, not if you really believe I love you." 

"I know you love me, but that offer was before we really knew it." 

"I knew it. I knew it almost from the first week." 

"So, why did you even consider leaving when he called?" 

Falling back against the hallway wall, Blair shook his head. "When he left me, I thought I'd die, man. And then there he was again with his hand out offering up another chance." 

"So, you're saying that whole Borneo thing was never just about being an assistant?" 

"Eli wanted it to be about a lot of things. I have to admit when he first called, I was tempted." 

"Shit." 

"Just for a minute, man. But, I knew I couldn't because I loved you. I'll always love you. I could never go back to Eli. Never. Not after what he did and not after I found you." 

Jim stepped closer, his body too tense to stop the slight shudder through his shoulders. "What did he do?" 

"I told you. He left me. I came home one day and the house was closed up. My stuff was packed and moved to another place, a place I couldn't go to." 

"What place?" 

"This friend of Eli's was supposed to take over." 

"Take over?" 

"Yeah, man, take over. But, I didn't like Thomas, and there was no way in hell I was going to live with him without Eli." 

"Shit, Blair. Are you saying Stoddard expected you move in and sleep with this Thomas person?" 

"Doesn't matter. The point is, I found out that Eli never planned to take me with him on his expedition even though I helped get it funded. Then after all these years he shows up out of nowhere and offers me the career opportunity of a lifetime by going to Borneo. Like I said, it was tempting, but only because it would've been great for academics. Not because I'm still in love with him. I'm not." 

"But you were." 

"Yeah, I was, but that was almost fifteen years ago. I was just a kid." 

Jim shook his head and touched his shoulder, his voice a lot softer than his heartache. "That's the whole point, Chief." 

* * *

"Well, I don't think Reardon expected to get slammed down quite so hard and fast. Makes a cop feel proud when the wheels of justice spin the way they should." Simon leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, looking smug and happy. 

Jim stared out the window, his mind only half on the conversation. The rest of his thoughts wandered in the direction of his absent partner. "You think he'll make a deal?" 

"Given that conviction by a jury would be an automatic death sentence, what do you think?" 

"Actually, I'm kind of hoping he gets his ass shanked in prison." He said it with purpose, his rage channeled through a different vision of justice. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You want to tell me what's going on?" 

"I know it's not a very politically correct thing to say, but I don't really give a shit at this point." He closed his eyes, his mind running through all the bloody crime scenes, the autopsies, the gruesome photos of all the young victims. 

"I'm not talking about the case. We both know Reardon deserves worse than anything the law can do to him. I'm talking about the fact that you've only been about half with me all morning. Does it have anything to do with the real reason Sandburg didn't come in today?" 

"It's just this case, Simon. It's stirring up some stuff and I'm not sure how to handle it." 

"Stirring up some stuff? What kind of stuff?" His captain stood up and stepped closer, his voice low and more concerned. "Did you remember something else from your past?" 

"No, it's not me." 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah. He told me something important and now I'm trying to figure out how I feel about it." 

"Well, if I knew what he told you, maybe I could help." 

"No, Simon. This is too personal. If Blair decides to tell you, fine, but for now, I'm just going to have to play this thing out." 

"And how do you plan to do that?" 

"I don't know yet." 

"So, where's Blair now?" 

"He's with Ricky Doyle. They're going to decide whether Blair should still be involved with helping the Donovan kid." 

Simon took out a cigar and walked back to his desk to light it. "I take it you think he should distance himself." 

"Yeah, you could say that. Donovan says he's in love with Blair." 

"Damn." 

"And Blair doesn't want to hurt his feelings." 

"And what does Doyle say?" 

Jim snorted and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he shook his head. "Have you ever gotten a straight answer from a shrink?" 

"You've got a point. Still, he must've said something." 

"Just that it depended on Blair." 

"Well, that's something." 

"Blair wants to do this, but I think he's too close. I want him away from all this, from Reardon and the kid and all the other ugly shit we see every day." 

"Jim, you can't protect the him from the world we live in." 

"I know. Not now and not in the past, either." 

* * *

"I'm sorry, Blair. I'm just not comfortable with you working with Paul anymore, not knowing how he's fixated on you. And now he thinks I've turned you against him, and he's refusing to work with me at all, which is why I'm assigning him to another doctor. He's going to be transferred to another treatment facility first thing tomorrow." 

Blair sat on the sofa, his hand to his mouth, his face not the least bit happy. "Why didn't you just come out and tell me that last night?" 

"Because I wanted to talk to you alone." 

"You could've just asked Jim to leave." 

"Yeah, I could have." 

Blair took a deep breath and crossed his arms, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. "But, you wanted to talk to me about the same thing Jim talked about after I left, right?" 

"Why do you say that?" Doyle leaned back in his chair at the table, his eyes alert and watchful. 

"Because I know you probably think the same thing he did, that I was abused. That's what he asked me about last night and then again this morning. He just won't back off from it." 

"And that bothers you?" 

"Well, yeah. I keep telling him it didn't happen and he doesn't believe me." 

"Why do you think that is?" 

"Jim's like that. He gets an idea in that cop brain of his and he won't let go." He leaned his head back for a moment, the tension in his neck binding his muscles all across his shoulders. "I guess what pisses me off the most is that he doesn't believe me. I mean, why would I lie about something like that?" 

"Have you lied to him before?" 

"Yeah, sometimes, but not about this, not about something so important." 

"So, why do you think he's so sure about it?" 

"Beats me." 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Is Jim a good cop?" 

He lifted his head, his defenses going up even stronger. "Of course, he is." 

"So, in general you trust his instincts." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"So, why do you think his instincts make him believe something you don't think is true?" 

Puzzled, Blair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He waited several long moments as he framed his answer carefully. "Jim's a little rigid sometimes. Plus, our definitions of abuse don't always match." 

"Care to explain that?" 

He bit his lower lip, wanting to talk and yet needing to stay away from the dangerous mine field of secrets he'd been avoiding for years. "I told him about something that happened a long time ago." 

"Blair, anything you say to me is confidential." 

"So, is this like a free introductory session?" He smiled as he said it, but remained guarded, not really sure how to take the whole situation, not sure of how much he should share. 

"If it needs to be, yeah. What did you tell Jim that bothered him so much?" 

"It's not really a big deal." 

"But it was to Jim?" 

"Yeah, well, Jim's the big deal king these days. Everything gets blown out of proportion. Like yesterday, he made a big deal out of two or three little things that weren't even important." 

"But they were to him." 

"Yeah, but if I try to please him and go along, he calls it manipulation. If I don't want to argue, I'm avoiding. It's like I can't win." 

"Jim seems very supportive and caring when it comes to you." 

"He usually is." 

"So, back to the original question you so deftly deflected, what did you tell Jim?" 

"When I was fifteen, I lived with a man who was a lot older." 

He watched for a reaction but all he got was another question. "Did your mother approve of it?" 

"My mom didn't know. Still doesn't." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's none of her business." 

Doyle leaned forward, his hands folded together on the table. "When we worked together before, I remember you talking a lot about your mom. I got the impression you two were very close." 

"We are." 

"So, if you were only fifteen, how did you live with an older man without your mother knowing?" 

"It's a long story." 

"I've got time." 

"Well, I don't. The short version is I was supposed to be living in a dorm for a summer extension program at Rainier and met Eli. I moved in with him instead." 

"Eli? Not Eli Stoddard?" 

"Yeah. You've heard of him?" 

"He's one of the most famous men in anthropology, not to mention the founder of the Stoddard Collection over at the university. Are you saying you were with him when you were fifteen?" 

"Yeah, and the thing is, now Jim's thinking I was molested or something and that's not how it was." 

"How was it?" 

"Before I met Jim, it was the best thing in my life. I mean, it was a dream come true, right? Here was _the_ Eli Stoddard being my mentor, taking me to the innermost circle of anthropology. I loved him and he taught me things I never had a clue about. It wasn't ugly and dirty most of the time, either." 

"Most of the time?" 

"I mean, mostly it was great, but then something happened. I guess I fucked up because things changed." 

"Changed how?" 

"I don't know." He stood up and stepped to the door before he spoke, his heart suddenly working too hard, his lungs constricted. "Look, I know you're just trying to help, but I don't want to talk about this, not to you or Jim or anyone else. It's just history." 

"As an anthropologist, you should know how important history is." 

"Don't play games, okay? This is Jim's problem, not mine. I'm okay with the whole thing. I mean, what's the point of being upset about something that happened a long time ago?" 

"Because talking about it may change how you deal with it now, give you a different perspective." 

"Like accepting the idea that I was abused by a man I loved? No, I don't think so." 

As he opened the door, Doyle spoke, his voice never wavering. "If you decide you want to talk, come see me." 

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Thanks anyway, though." 

Walking away, he struggled to keep from running out the front door of the center. He needed air, some open place away from all the haunting replays coming at him from all directions at once. He wanted to put his memories through a filter, some device that would keep away the spiky bits and pieces that ambushed and pricked him. He didn't need this, didn't want to deal with any of it. Why bring it all up now? 

Opening the door of his car, he slid in behind the wheel too wired to drive home and too angry to go to the station. He started the engine and headed for school, the one place he didn't have to think too hard to function. 

* * *

Eli fucking Stoddard. 

Jim slammed the magazine down on the table and then walked to the window, his hands fisted and his jaw clenching. Every single journal mentioned the man, the awards, the titles. Not a one said anything about the son of a bitch being a sick fuck who seduced beautiful children. Jesus. He hated the man, wanted to hunt him down and beat his head with a hammer. 

Pressing his forehead against the cool pane of the glass, he focused on calming. He didn't want Blair to find him like this, out of control and so angry. After a few minutes he collected and put the magazines back in Blair's old bedroom, making sure to stack them in the same pile of clutter they came from. When he returned to the kitchen, he poured himself some coffee and sat down to ponder the evidence. 

Stoddard had no criminal record, nothing, not even a traffic ticket. Every check he ran came up empty. But, how could that be? How did a man, a man in such a high profile position like that, manage to live with a boy and no one say anything? 

Jim knew better than to expect an answer. People witnessed blatant abuse all the time and never reported it. Why would they get involved in something camouflaged as mentor and student if they didn't have to? Just mind your own goddamn business, that was the American way. 

He took a drink of old coffee, grimaced, and then poured the rest out before making a fresh pot. Glancing up at the clock again, he wondered about Blair. He should've been home hours ago. Just as he picked up the phone to try calling again, his partner's key turned the lock. 

"God, I was worried, Chief. Where've you been?" 

"I was at school." 

"You didn't answer your phone." 

"I turned it off." Blair locked the door and hung up his coat, his shoulders rounded from fatigue. 

"I wish you wouldn't do that." 

"I know." 

"But, you keep doing it anyway." 

Raising both hands in a stop motion, Blair shook his head. "Don't. I'm not in the mood, okay? I'm sorry about the phone, but I just needed some down time." 

"All right." Jim didn't push, not after hearing the no nonsense tone Blair reserved for special occasions. "So, you want some coffee?" 

"Not really." 

"What about supper? I picked up some fresh bread. All I have to do is put the pasta on and toss a salad. I fixed the sauce this morning." 

"Fine. I'm going to take a shower first." 

As he started to move away, Jim asked quietly, "Blair? Are we okay here?" 

Pushing his hair back, Blair nodded. "We're fine, man. I'm just tired." 

Jim stepped closer, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "I've thought about doing this all day, just holding you." 

"I missed you, too, Jim." He relaxed against him, arms going around his waist, Blair's face dropped to his shoulder. 

"I hate when we fight." 

"Yeah. Me, too." 

Jim lowered his face into the curls and kissed the neck, his lips tickled by the springy waves between him and skin, the scent of his lover sweaty and arousing. As he nibbled, he pushed Blair back against the wall, one hand running down between them, making contact and moving his hips in a slow rhythm against him. Heat traced up his belly and down his legs, but before he could go further, Blair shoved him away. 

"Come on, Jim. I'm tired." 

"What?" 

"I just want to take a shower. We can do this later." 

Surprised, Jim stood up straighter and backed away. "Sure. Okay." 

Blair avoided his eyes and stayed leaning against the wall, his head bent slightly. "I mean, you told me to tell you when I wasn't in the mood, so I'm saying it." 

"It's no problem." But even as he said it, he knew the lie. Blair never said no, never once since they'd been together. 

"You sure?" 

"Take a shower. I'll fix dinner." 

"I'm not very hungry." 

"Well, I am, and I'd like the company." 

Looking up, Blair shrugged, but smiled shyly. "I can do company." 

"Then get busy. It'll be done when you're finished." 

"Okay." 

As he went into the bathroom and closed the door, Jim sagged against the wall thinking he needed to be more careful what he wished for. Standing there listening to the shower start, he wondered how many other times Blair had wanted to say no and didn't, how many other times he failed to really see the other Blair who had been hiding so well. 

* * *

"Simon figures Reardon will take the deal." 

"What about you?" 

"I figure if he does, it'll save a lot of court time. It'll also disappoint the media circus this case has drawn. Some newspaper's already offered the bastard a million for an exclusive interview." 

"Damn. I hope they don't go after Paul." 

"He's in protective custody. His name's been withheld, too, so they shouldn't be able to find him." He paused a moment and finished his bread before he continued. "So, did Doyle say where he was going to send the kid?" 

"No." 

"Did you ask?" 

"No." 

"Okay." Jim wiped his mouth and drank some more red wine as Blair picked up his plate and took it to the sink. He started the dish water and putting the extra food into containers. "Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you still pissed?" 

"I'm not pissed, Jim. It's been a long day after a long case. It's not you." 

"Feels like it." 

"That's because you're the center of the universe." 

"Funny." 

"I'm not kidding." But the small smile betrayed him as he turned and dried his hands. "Look, I'm sorry I'm such shitty company tonight. It's just that I'm really beat. After I got dumped on by Doyle, I went to school and worked on a ton of backlogged papers I'd been putting off. It's just hard to shift gears." 

"I understand. It's just that you're the one usually doing the talking." 

"Yeah, I know." 

He stepped to the table and started clearing, before Jim upped the ante. "So, did you and Doyle talk about anything besides the case?" 

Blair stopped and tilted his head, his face impatient. "Actually we did. We talked about you and your intrusive cop attitude, like the whole world is your personal business when it's not." 

"Yeah, right." 

"Leave it alone, Jim." The last dish went into the sink before Blair spoke again. "I'm serious, man. This whole thing is starting to wear thin. I know you're concerned, I get that, but you need to back off and get a new topic." 

"Or what?" 

"Or I'm sleeping downstairs until you do." 

Startled by the resoluteness of the tone, Jim stood up and moved closer, more concerned than ever. "Are you serious? You really think pulling this sexual blackmail shit is the right thing to do? Come on, that's not like you. Talk to me here." 

"I'm tired of talking about it." 

"Look, I know you're upset." 

"I'm not upset and I'm not trying to blackmail you. I'm just setting up some boundaries." He turned and looked up, his eyes even more blue in the low light. "I love you, Jim. I do. But, sometimes you have to back off and let me have some things to myself. I can't deal with you trying to remap my past." 

"I'm not doing that." 

"Yes, you are. And it has to stop. If I decide to talk about that time in my life, that's fine, but until then, this is one subject I don't want to discuss, ever. Understand?" 

Jim clenched his jaw as he contained the arguments jabbering in his head. Instead, he took his lover in his arms and nodded. "Okay, Chief. I understand." 

"You sure?" 

"I'm not saying I'm happy about it, but you're right. If that's part of yourself you have to rope off, then do what you have to do." 

Blair relaxed into the hug and took a deep breath. "I know it's not easy." 

"Easier than sleeping alone." 

"Speaking of which, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted." 

"You go on up. I'll finish the dishes first." 

"Okay." Blair caressed his face for a long second and kissed his cheek before heading for the stairs. "Don't be too long, Jim. I'm feeling a lot less tired all of a sudden." 

The sultry tone pushed the best button in the world and doing the dishes in the loft never went faster. 

The low whimpers pulled him up from deep sleep, the tiny sounds shuddering his heart as he opened his eyes to find his partner curled up tight and shaking beside him. Reaching out gently, he whispered, "Blair?" 

"No, don't. Oh, god, no." The words came out so tiny, so desperate, Jim couldn't help but taste the terror behind them. "I can't. Don't make me. Please." 

Jesus. Jim sat up straighter, turned on the light, and then shook his lover's shoulder harder. "Blair, wake up. Now." 

The body stiffened and then relaxed, the breathing coming in quick, uneven catches as the younger man's eyes fluttered open. A low groan came when he moved to lie on his back and raised an arm to cover his face from the glare. "Shit." 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

"You were dreaming again." 

"Sorry." 

"No need to be." He watched as Blair slowly got this bearings and then pulled up the covers to his chin, his arms covered with gooseflesh. "Want to talk about it?" 

"Not really." 

"It helps sometimes." 

"Not this time." 

"You were talking." 

Blair turned over, his back to Jim, his voice sleep rough and slow. "It was just a dream, man. Not real." 

"Maybe." 

"Jim, please." 

"Please what? Pretend that you're not scaring the shit out me here?" 

"They're just bad dreams. They don't mean anything." 

"You know better than that." Jim lay on his side behind Blair, his body stretched out, his head supported on an upraised hand. His other hand rested on his lover's hip, the contact a warm grace to his palm. 

After several long breaths, Blair spoke quietly. "I don't want you to hate him." 

"Who? Stoddard?" 

"Yeah. He's not a bad man." 

"Is he the one you're talking to in the dreams?" 

"Yeah, sometimes, but not always. It's this case, man. I keep getting mixed up. I'm walking through the crime scenes and I see these faces, but they're not the faces of the victims." He paused before he spoke, his words hard to form. "I'll be standing there and I reach down to turn the body over and when I do, it's me as a kid. It's all confused and run together, like I'm in the house with Eli and then I'm not. I'm stretched out and gutted like the bodies we found." 

"Shit." 

"I mean, it's crazy, right? Nothing like that ever happened to me. I've never been tortured or anything like that." 

Running his hand along Blair's bare arm, Jim worked to keep his voice level despite the wild pounding in his chest. "Do you think it's possible that you're remembering what it feels like to be powerless or torn apart by something?" 

"You mean what the victims might have felt before they died?" 

"Yeah. When you're crying out, you're begging someone to stop doing something. Are you talking to Stoddard?" 

Blair shifted and rolled over to snuggle into his arms, his face buried against his chest and his words muffled. "I can't talk about this." 

Petting back his hair, Jim slid down and pulled him closer. "You're going to have to some time. The case is over, but the dreams are still here." 

"I know." 

"Maybe you could talk to Doyle about it." 

"I don't want to." 

"Of course, you don't. I don't want to go for my annual physical either, but I eventually do, thanks to your stubborn nagging." The whole time he spoke, Blair's body relaxed slowly. "It couldn't hurt to see what he thinks." 

"I hate therapy." 

"You've been before, right?" 

"Yeah, but not about this." 

"This?" 

Blair pulled back for a second and raised his head. "What if he thinks I'm crazy? He might say I shouldn't be working with you." 

Teasing his finger along Blair's jawline, Jim smiled. "If crazy kept us apart, we wouldn't even have started this whole thing. Let's face it, who believes in sentinels anyway?" 

Blair tilted his face closer for a kiss, his words a breathy whisper. "I do." 

And Jim believed him. 

* * *

[Concluded in part two](mentorbook_a.html).

Link to text version of part two: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=drama6/mentorbook_a.html 

Mentor: Book One - part two

 

This story has been split into two parts for easier loading.

## Mentor: Book One

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/3837/index2.html>

Author's notes and disclaimer in part one. 

* * *

Mentor  
Book One - part two   
by Grey 

Just as he finished the morning dishes, the knock came. Blair glanced over at Jim and dried his hands before answering. "Daryl? What are you doing here?" 

"Can I come in, man? I need to talk to you." 

"Sure." 

Blair opened the door wider while Jim stood up and went for more coffee in the kitchen. "Morning, Daryl. What's going on?" 

Nervously, the young man stood by the table wringing his hands, his face tight and anxious. "I need to know what you guys think about my dad and Megan." Blair walked over to the table and sat down, motioning for Daryl to sit. Instead, he moved towards the window, his body energized. "I mean, why would he want to get married again anyway?" 

Casually, Jim sipped his drink and leaned back against the counter, his trained voice easy. "I take it you have a problem with it?" 

"Don't you? He's too old." Anger edged his words. "And do you know why they're doing it so fast?" 

"He told you then?" 

"Yeah, he told me. He got her pregnant. Can you believe that? All those lectures on safe sex and my own father pulls that kind of shit." 

"Settle down. What goes on between Simon and Megan is their own business. You're old enough to understand that." 

Before Daryl could answer, Blair spoke, his voice strong and quiet. "What are you really pissed about?" 

Confusion twisted his dark features before he turned and faced the window. "I don't know. I like Megan. It's just...I think I'm afraid that with a new family, he's not going to have anymore time for me. It's hard enough to see him now. He's always working as it is." 

"So, you're jealous?" Jim stepped closer as he spoke, his words soft, but precise. "You know your dad loves you, right?" 

"Yeah, I know." 

He put his hand on his shoulder and nodded, "So, maybe you could focus on what it's going to be like to be an older brother." 

"Yeah, man, you get to have a kid sister or brother." Blair ran pushed his hair back, his face enthused and animated. "Gives you even more of an excuse to go visit, not that you need one. You know your dad's going to want you to be a part of it all. It's great news." 

"Think about it. He's going to want you around more than ever. Sure, he's in love with Megan, but you're his first born son. Don't ever forget that." 

Shrugging, Daryl turned to face Jim, but still avoided his eyes. "Yeah, well maybe." 

"Want some coffee?" 

"I don't drink coffee." 

"You're a cop's kid and you don't drink coffee?" 

"My uncle runs a coffee import shop and the stuff is nasty." 

Blair stood up, opened the refrigerator, and asked, "How about a soft drink then?" 

"Cool." As Daryl took the soda, his posture grew suddenly more nervous. "Look, I didn't mean to come over here and be a drag. It's just when he told me last night, I couldn't believe it." 

"It's okay. Simon was pretty surprised himself." As Jim poured his coffee down the sink, he rinsed the cup. "Maybe you should just trust him. He's a pretty good guy even if he is my boss." 

"And your friend." 

"Yeah, that, too." 

"Are you going to be the best man?" 

"I don't know. He hasn't asked me." 

"Well, if he does, I think you should." 

"He might ask you." 

"I'm his son, but you're his best friend, man. I think you should do it." Then he grinned. "Besides, I'll bet you could throw a hell of a bachelor party." 

Blair piped in, barely containing his laughter. "What do you know about bachelor parties?" 

"Only what I've seen in movies. And what Roddy Mercy told me about what happened at his brother's last spring." 

"And what's that, junior?" Jim crossed his arms and tried to look serious. 

"Well, you know. Naked ladies and porn films along with all kinds of drinking." 

Jim shook his head and rubbed his jaw, thinking back over the number of raunchy affairs he'd attended and hated. "That's not going to happen. You're too young to drink and your dad and I have arrested most of the women you're talking about. So, if I have a party, it's not going to be anything nasty. Got that?" 

"Man, it's tradition." 

"Simon wouldn't want it. Besides, some traditions pretty much suck, man." 

Daryl glanced over at Blair and then back at Jim before he frowned. "Well, you guys would know about breaking tradition, right?" 

His back stiffened as Jim stood straighter, but didn't move closer. "What's your point?" 

"I wasn't making a point." 

"Sounded like it." 

"Look, I just never did get it." 

"Get what?" 

"How you could be gay." 

Jim met Blair's eyes before he spoke, his chest tight and his heart working harder. "Do you have a problem with us being together?" 

Daryl took a long drink before he finally answered. "I have to admit, it confuses me. I'm not saying it's wrong, I'm just saying I don't understand. You don't act gay." 

"I'm not gay. I'm in love with Blair." 

"Same thing, man. You're both guys." 

Blair stepped closer before he spoke, his voice gentle. "Gender doesn't matter. I think in your heart you know that. The thing is, you hear all the fag jokes about queers and it confuses you because we don't fit the stereotypes, right?" 

"Something like that." 

"Daryl, whether it's about race or gender, there are always narrow-minded people around. Jim and I love each other. How can that be wrong?" 

The younger man nodded, his face more relaxed. "I know. It's just hard sometimes. I hear all that shit and I want to say something, but I can't." 

"Because if you did, they might think you were gay, too. It's a hard call, I know." Blair swallowed hard, remembering so many times from the past, so many hateful words and blows. 

"But, I feel like a coward sometimes." He looked up at Jim, his eyes suddenly more bright. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that. Just the opposite. I admire you." 

"For what?" 

He motioned at Blair with his head. "For admitting you love another guy. I couldn't do that, not these days. It's too damn dangerous." 

"We're not out to everyone." 

"I know, but you're out to most of your friends and even that takes guts." 

Jim wrapped his arm around Blair without warning and pulled him closer. As he kissed his temple, he smiled and spoke in a hush. "Not when you know what you've got is worth it." 

* * *

Gripping the steering wheel harder, Jim squinted against the nagging pain playing around the ragged edges of his eyeballs. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. Just a headache." He glanced over to see Blair watching him intently. "What?" 

"I was just thinking." 

"About?" 

"About what you said to Daryl." 

"You'll have to be more specific, Chief." 

"You said you're not gay." Blair stared out the window as he spoke, his arms wrapped around himself, his face tired. "I mean, do you really think of yourself as straight?" 

"To be honest, I don't really think about it." 

Blair's head turned, his brows furrowed. "Really?" 

"Really. I used to be with women and now I'm with you. What's to think about?" 

"So, you're saying it wouldn't bother you to be called gay?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"I don't get it." 

Jim took a moment before he spoke as he changed lanes and then tried to put the whole complicated issue into simple words. "I'm practical enough to know that if people think I'm gay, I'm going to have problems. I've seen it happen. I've heard about soldiers and cops dying because they couldn't get back up just because some jerks thought they were gay." 

"I'm not talking about what others think, Jim. I'm talking about what you think of yourself. Does it bother you to think of yourself as gay?" 

"It's nothing I can't handle, but, yeah, sometimes." 

The quiet in the truck mixed only with the sounds of traffic for awhile. Finally Blair spoke, his words a little thicker than before. "Do you blame me for that?" 

"What?" Puzzled, Jim watched Blair fiddle with the bottom edge of the window, his fingers moving back and forth in a nervous sweep along the glass. 

"Before me, you didn't have to worry about it." 

He shook his head and reached out to play with the nape of his neck, the tight muscles pushing back. "Before you, I was a lonely son of a bitch, Chief. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I mean that. Now, what's this about?" 

"It's just, hearing you say you weren't gay struck a nerve." 

"Why?" 

"Because it was like you were denying who you are. Denying us." 

"I'm not." 

"I know. It just felt like it. It's stupid." 

"It's not stupid. I guess, when Daryl asked, it caught me off guard." 

"Yeah, me, too." 

Jim turned his attention back to the road for a few minutes before he asked, "Do you think there's a reason he's all of a sudden interested in what it's like to be gay?" 

"Shit, I hope not." 

"Now, I'm confused." 

"If Daryl's questioning his sexuality at this age, well, there's got to be a reason. If he's found someone he's attracted to, he's probably scared. Love's rough enough without throwing in the gay issue." 

"You don't think he can handle it?" 

"He can handle it, but it's hard, man. It's so much easier to play straight. Believe me, I've tried." 

"I remember." A question niggled his mind and refused to stay silent. "Blair, does it bother you to think of yourself as gay?" 

"Yeah, it does." 

"Since when?" 

"Since always." He shifted in his seat and turned to face him. "I never wanted to be gay, or bi, or whatever you want to call it. I knew from an early age I liked guys better, but I didn't want to, so I went out of my way to go after girls. Didn't work though. It's been a big deal in my life for a long time." 

"How come you never mentioned it?" 

"I don't know. It was just easier not to." 

"And it still bothers you?" 

"Yeah. Not as bad as it used to, but yeah, some." 

As they approached the police garage, Jim asked, "So, what do you want to do about this?" 

"Nothing to do. I'll just add it to the list." 

"What list?" 

"The list of things to live with." 

"And this list includes?" 

"Things I don't want to talk about." 

"Ah." 

As he parked the truck and turned off the engine, Blair snapped, "What the fuck does 'ah' mean?" 

"It doesn't mean anything." 

"Of course, it does." 

"Just settle down, and let's go to work." 

"God, you're a prick sometimes." 

"Guess you'll just have to add me to your list, then." 

"Already done, man." 

* * *

Simon's grim face stared out at them from behind his desk. "This is a serious problem, Jim. Reardon will sign off on all the murders, but one. He says the Donovan kid killed Bobby Patterson." 

"And you believe him?" 

"I don't know yet. We're going to have to wait for forensics and get DNA samples from Donovan. We need to bring the kid in for questioning." 

Blair jumped up from the table, his voice tense and anxious. "You can't do that, Simon. Paul's been through enough shit as it is. He admitted to Reardon forcing him to hurt the others. It's not his fault. He knew the bastard would kill him if he didn't do what he said." 

"Calm down, Sandburg. I know the kid's on the edge, but I've got a job to do." 

"You don't have to hurt a boy to do it. Come on, man. Besides, this could be just another way for Reardon to get back at him for turning his ass in." 

"He's right, Captain. Reardon could be using this as payback. Or, he could be just trying to stall the prosecution. Either way, Donovan's only fifteen and a victim here. We can move ahead on three of the four counts. Leave the kid to people like Doyle." 

Simon leaned back in his chair and nodded. "I appreciate your points, but the fact remains, we're going to need extra DNA samples even if we don't question him yet. If he did kill Patterson, well, I'll let the courts and doctors decide what to do. It's not our place to decide whether to investigate or not." 

"I know that, sir. It's just that Doyle's transferring him to another facility today." 

"Then I guess you'd better make a call and postpone that." 

"Yes, sir." 

As they headed for the door, Simon added, "Blair, I know this case has been hard on you. I'm sorry. I don't mean to make it any more difficult." 

"It's okay, Simon. You're just doing your job." 

"Yeah, well, to coin one your favorite phrases, the job sucks sometimes." 

"Yeah, it does." 

Before Jim made it to his desk, Ricky Doyle headed into the bullpen, his face solemn and his voice deadly serious. "People, we have a big problem." 

"What's wrong, man?" 

"Paul Donovan's run away." 

"Shit." Jim touched Doyle's back to guide him into Simon's office. "Captain, Donovan's gone." 

"What the hell do you mean, he's gone?" 

Doyle answered, his voice breathy and rushed. "It was during the transfer. He asked the guard to go to the bathroom and the guy got careless. With Reardon in jail, he didn't expect a problem. Paul went out the back way." 

Simon rubbed the back of his head, his face drawn. "Is the kid dangerous?" 

"I'm not sure, Captain. We'd only had four complete sessions. He was hostile and uncooperative because of the situation with Blair." 

"Situation? You mean, the fact he thinks he's in love with him?" 

"Yes, that and the fact that he thinks he's been lied to and deserted." 

"Damn." Blair took a deep breath, his hand to his mouth as spoke. "I was afraid he'd think that. I should have done something." 

Doyle touched the younger man's shoulder, his face serious. "It's not your fault, Blair. If anyone's to blame here, it's me. I should've seen the problem when I first talked to him. Having you stay on to get the information about Reardon only reinforced his attachment by transferring his loyalty to you. That was a mistake on my part, not yours." 

Jim stepped forward, his alert on full as he spoke to Doyle. "You said he was hostile. Do you think he's angry enough to come after Blair?" 

"Maybe, or he could come after you." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you're the competition. The problem is, I don't know him well enough to figure out what he'd do. He's just as likely to go underground or leave town and hustle to survive. I just don't know." 

"Well, he's not going to hurt me. He's not like that." 

All faces turned toward Blair, but Jim spoke first. "You don't know that for sure, Chief. This kid's in serious trouble. I don't think he even knows what he's going to do right now. He's running on instinct." 

"And my gut instinct as a psychologist says he's not going to give up on you, Blair. He's an obsessive personality. Reardon's gone for him because he's locked up, but you're not. I just think you and Jim both need to be extra careful and watch your backs until we find him." 

"Which we're going to do." Simon picked up the phone and dialed. "Rhonda, I want an APB on Paul Donovan. Ellison's got the file. Right. Access it from there." As soon as he hung up, he addressed himself to Doyle. "I think you should go with Jim to question Reardon about where he thinks the kid would go." 

"I want to go, too, Simon." 

"I don't think that's a good idea, Chief." Jim watched his partner stand more straight before arguing, but he cut him off. "Listen to me. Reardon's a severe head case. I don't want you anywhere near him." 

"And why's that, Jim? You think two head cases together might be too much for you to handle?" 

"I never said that." 

"You didn't fucking have to." Blair didn't look at a soul as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Doyle touched Jim's arm, his grip light but stubborn. "Okay, you want to tell me what that was about?" 

"He's not sleeping. I'm afraid seeing Reardon will just make it worse." 

"Why should it?" 

"He's having nightmares about the case, about what Reardon did to the boys and seeing himself as the victim." 

Doyle released his hold before he spoke. "Then you're right. He shouldn't be involved anymore." 

"Can I quote you on that?" 

"Spread the blame? Sure." Doyle smiled, but then got very solemn. "I know Blair's having problems, Jim. But, he's going to have to decide on his own if he wants help. You trying to run his life isn't what he wants or needs now." 

"I'm not doing that. Reardon's a sick fuck. There's no need for Blair to be anywhere near him. If he gets pissed off at me for caring too much, too damn bad." 

"Maybe you should tell him that." 

"Yeah, maybe I should." As he headed out the door, he heard Simon and Doyle talking behind the glass. 

"The kid's not usually that wired." 

"He's not a kid, Captain." 

"I know that. I'm just worried about him. I've never seen him quite this upset before." 

"I hate to say this, but he might get worse before he gets better." 

"Is that your professional opinion?" 

"Unfortunately, yes." 

* * *

Michael Reardon sat at the interview table, his hands folded in his lap, his face relaxed and content. Jim thought the word ordinary fit the facade if one saw only the surface, brown hair, brown eyes, regular features, nothing outstanding at all. Except under that deceptively plain wrapper lay the heart of a stone cold killer, a devil who tortured and murdered children and enjoyed it. 

"Hello, detective. I see you've got a new companion." 

"This is Dr. Doyle. We're here to talk about Paul Donovan." 

"And where's the other young man, the one with long curly hair?" 

"He's busy." Jim pulled up a chair, putting it backwards and straddling the seat while Doyle sat beside him. "Now, what's this business about you not killing Bobby Patterson?" 

"Paul killed Bobby. He's a wonderful pupil, my Paul. I'm still surprised he ran off and betrayed me like he did. Ungrateful little bastard." 

Doyle leaned forward, his eyes focused on Reardon. "Tell us about Paul. You say he was a wonderful pupil. What does that mean?" 

"It means that he learned quickly to enjoy what I taught." 

"Which was?" 

"How to enjoy the pain. How to give and receive it." Reardon leaned back, his body stretching against the chair as he drank in the attention. "I found him about a year ago. At first he didn't like the games, but when I got Eric, he changed. He got jealous and didn't like it when I spent time with anyone but him." Licking his lips, his eyes stared off, his voice becoming more dreamy. "He'd do anything for my attention, including thinking of new ways to entertain me." 

"Entertain you how?" 

"By torturing the others while I watched." 

Jim forced himself to remain quiet, letting Doyle handle the interview, the desire to jump in and throttle Reardon almost too tempting. 

"Did Paul torture all the boys?" 

"Yes, including himself. I think he liked that best. At any rate, I'll confess his imagination was never wasted, but he got carried away with Bobby." 

"And you killed the other boys?" 

"Yes, but I didn't kill Bobby. I can't take credit for that." 

"Let me ask you another question. If Paul were free and on his own, what would he most likely do?" 

Reardon laughed and put his hands behind his head, his face grotesque in his amusement. "He's run away, huh. Clever little shit. He used to do that all the time. That's why I never worried when he ran this last time. I thought he'd be back. Imagine my surprise when the cops showed up." 

"You didn't answer the doctor's question, Reardon." Jim struggled to control both his contempt and his anger. 

Brown eyes fixed on his, the expression taunting. "I've seen your partner, detective." 

"What's that got to do with anything?" 

"He looks a lot like Paul's friend Brian." 

"Brian?" 

"Brian Wethery. Paul showed me a picture. Sometimes he pretended that he was with Brian when he jerked off. Made for some delicious moments, his hand wrapped around his cock, going at it and calling out his name. Made me come just watching." 

"You sick bastard." 

"Maybe, but I can tell you that as soon as I saw your partner, I knew that he was the reason Paul stayed away this time. He'd found his Brian again. Poor kid has a few problems with reality if you ask me." 

Doyle drew Reardon's attention back to his side of the table. "What ever happened to Brian?" 

"He tried leaving." Reardon took a deep breath and smiled in Jim's direction. "Paul didn't like that very much so he killed the girl he left with and then he killed Brian." 

"How do you know he really did that and didn't just make it up as wishful thinking?" 

Reardon turned back to Doyle to answer the question. "Well, I can't exactly prove it, but I do know he was only thirteen at the time and when he told me, I believed him. Said he buried the body in the park where they first fucked. Granted, the boy can lie like a starved man needing a blowjob, but I don't think he was lying." 

"Where would he go, Reardon?" Jim's words came out crisp and halted, his cop mode on full tilt as he reigned in his emotions. 

"He's a good slum rat. Blends right in." Reardon put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Doesn't matter though. Wait long enough and he'll come to you." 

"Why should we believe you?" 

"Believe whatever you want, Detective. But, I know how he thinks. Right now he's thinking of a way to fuck your partner." 

Doyle put an arm out to caution Jim's reaction forward. "Why are you telling us this?" 

"Because I want you to catch him." 

"Because he betrayed you?" 

"Well, actually I was kind of hoping we could share the same cell." 

"God." Jim stood up, his stomach rebelling, his gut knotted against the wave of nausea. "Let's get the hell out of here." 

"You do look a little green, Detective. Maybe you should go home and rest. Sleep with your sweet partner if it helps." 

"Maybe you should just shut the fuck up." 

"Make me." 

It took every bit of control he could muster to turn and walk out of the room, keeping his face neutral for the video cameras. Doyle followed right behind him and didn't speak until they were clear and in the hallway. "You okay, Jim?" 

"I should've shot his sorry ass on the scene." 

"I can understand the sentiment." 

Jim turned and met his eyes, his rage reflected. "I've never seen you pissed before." 

"Damn, there goes my claim to sainthood." 

"Don't get carried away." 

"Listen, Jim, I think you need to stick close to Blair until we find Paul. Is there a way you two could take some time off, go away for awhile?" 

"You mean go into hiding?" 

"Whatever." 

"Hiding it is then." 

* * *

"No way, man." 

"Listen. Simon and Doyle both think it's a good idea. We deserve some time off anyway." 

Blair stood by his desk in his office, his arms crossed as he stared back at Jim, his face defiant. "This has nothing to do with time off, so don't try to bullshit me, okay? You think we're targets, that Paul is really capable of coming after us. It's crazy, Jim." 

"It's crazy, but not the way you think." 

"Paul's not dangerous." 

"Maybe he's not. Maybe Reardon's lying through his teeth about the Wethery kid. I don't know, but I don't want to take any chances." 

"What are you going to do, man, put me in a cage for my own protection?" 

"If I have to, yeah." Before Blair could say anything else, he stepped closer and put his hand on his shoulder. "But, I'm going to be right there with you, Chief." 

Not pulling away, Blair eased into the offered embrace. "I've got so much to do here. I really can't afford to go away." 

"You could take some of the stuff with you if you want." 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Taggart's offered his place up in the North Woods." Jim stroked his hair, the wiry wisps teasing his palm, the heat of the touch swirling down and warming his belly. "Come on, babe. We could pack some things and be there by tonight. Just think, a nice fire, some wine, some really good loving. What's not to like?" 

Blair moved away, his eyes avoiding Jim's, his hands sorting through the folders on his desk. "I just don't like running." 

"We're not running. We're just going to take some down time." 

"While all the rest of Major Crimes tracks down Paul Donovan? Yeah, right." 

"Look, you're the one who's always bitching about me not taking any time off." 

"I don't bitch." 

"You bitch, Chief, but that's okay. I just think it's time I started listening. You're not the only one who gets tired of the same old shit all the time, you know." 

Blair met his eyes, his face less hostile, but still solemn. "I know, man. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay. Just tell me that you'll get what you need here and let's go home and pack." 

"I can't. I've got a tutorial in about fifteen minutes. After that, well, yeah, I guess we could do the cabin deal for a few days." 

Jim smiled and nodded, his mind set on the returning images of the last weekend they'd spent in their friend's isolated retreat, the sensory pull at his groin a quick rush. "Okay, then. I'll have a patrol car guarding the front while I do a few things at the station." He glanced at his watch and added, "I'll pick you up in an hour." 

"An hour and a half and I'll drive home on my own, thank you. Is a guard really necessary?" 

"Yeah, Chief, it is. Or, I could just stay here and park myself over in the corner until you finish. Either way works for me." 

Raising his hand, Blair shook his head. "No, that's okay. Go do whatever you have to. I just think it's all a big deal over nothing." 

"Keeping you safe isn't nothing." 

"I don't want to argue anymore." 

Jim walked back over and kissed him on the cheek, his lips tingling from the tough brush of stubble. Caressing his face, he spoke in a low hush. "I never want to lose you, Chief. I know you think this whole thing is silly bullshit, but I don't. I'm worried, that's all. Indulge me, okay?" 

"Don't I always?" The weak smile curled the lips, but the blue eyes stayed sad and haunted. 

* * *

"Thanks, Mary Ann. You did great today. I think you're going to be ready to publish in no time." 

"I wish." The girl smiled, her round face blushing from the attention. "You always say that, Blair." 

"And I mean it. Honest. You've improved a lot this semester." 

"Thanks to you. I still don't have the knack with lining up the research, though." 

"You'll get there." 

"I'm trying." She pushed back her long black hair and grinned. "So, are you going to Dexter Martin's party tonight?" 

"Party?" 

"Yeah, he said he invited you last week. It's his birthday." 

A vague memory of a brief conversation fluttered through, but he lost it quickly. "Actually, I've got other plans. I'm going out of town for a couple of days." 

She held back her disappointment and shrugged. "That's too bad. I was kind of hoping to see you there." Her face flushed again as she picked up her bag and walked to the door. "If you change your mind, maybe we can talk some more later." 

"Tell Dex happy birthday for me, okay?" 

"Sure thing." 

As soon as she left, Blair sagged back in his chair, his head pounding. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to fight back the serious strain of muscles tensing over and over, the price for going to war against his own memories. After a few minutes, he took a deep breath, stood up, and stuffed some papers into his back pack. As he closed the strap, the phone rang. "Sandburg." 

"Blair?" 

The air charged around him, the voice electric. "Paul? Where are you?" 

"They were going to lock me up, man. I couldn't handle it." 

Blair sat back down, head resting against his hand as he talked into the receiver. "They just need to talk to you, Paul. You're not under arrest." 

"Michael's been telling lies, man. I know it. I see the cop cars out and news on TV. Everyone's out looking for me." 

"Hiding's not going to help. You need to come in so we can straighten this thing out." 

"I can't." 

"Sure you can." 

"Why should I believe anything you say? You left me. That Doyle fuck doesn't give a shit about me and neither do you." 

"That's not true." 

"Prove it." 

"How?" 

"Meet me." 

Blair swallowed hard, his heart racing. Jim would go wild if he took off, but the kid needed help. "Where?" 

"There's a house on Elliot Street off Willis, number 810. Wait there. If you're alone, I'll show up. If I see your asshole friend Jim, I'm gone and you'll never see me." 

"Jim's a friend." 

"Not to me. He wants me out of the way." 

"Out of the way?" 

"Yeah, now listen. Don't tell anyone or I'm gone. Let me down this time and forget about ever seeing me again. Anything that happens will be on you, man." 

"I won't let you down." 

"Goodbye, Blair." His voice softened, his words just a whisper on the phone. "I know you don't believe me, but I do love you." 

"Paul, don't." 

"Don't what? Tell the truth? Why's it so hard to believe?" 

"I do believe you." 

"No, you don't, but you will." 

The click at the other end closed the connection and Blair hung up the phone. Grabbing his pack and jacket, he headed out to his car, passing his watcher on the way. "Hey, Sandburg, you leaving now?" 

"Yeah, Burt. Thanks. I'll tell Jim you did a great job." 

"No need. I'm supposed to follow you home." 

"You're kidding, right?" 

"No, I'm not kidding. I'm on this until you're safe back at your place." 

"Cool." Blair shifted his back pack and then smacked his forehead, "Man, I'm so stupid." 

"What?" 

"Look, I forgot something back in my office. Plus, I need to make a phone call." 

"I'll wait." 

"Thanks. Might take awhile, though." 

"Want me to radio Jim?" 

"No, I'll phone him." 

"Whatever you say, Sandburg." 

Blair rushed into the building and headed for Maggie Smith's office. "Mags, thank god you're still here." 

The older woman lifted her head, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She pushed them back before smiling and then looked more serious. "What's wrong? You look terrible." 

"I'm supposed to meet Jim and my car won't start." 

"Yeah?" 

"I was wondering if I could borrow yours. I'll return it in a couple of hours." 

She leaned over and grabbed her purse, shifted its contents and pulled out a set of keys. "Keep it until morning if you want. Ted's picking me up for dinner. You could just drop it by the house." 

"Thanks, Mags. You're the best." 

"Just don't keep Jim waiting, dear. He can be a sweetie, but I know how grouchy the boy gets." 

Blair snorted, but didn't have time to explain she was the only woman other than Naomi who ever got away with calling Jim a boy or a sweetie. "Later." 

"Drive safe." 

He hurried out the back, found the dark blue Corsica, and got in. As he started the engine, he mentally made out the fastest route to the address Paul gave him. Grateful he had a few hours of light left, he headed out to the most dangerous, most run down part of town to meet up with a boy who needed saving. 

* * *

"What do you mean he's not here? Where the hell is he?" 

"Settle down, Jim." Doyle put a restraining touch on Jim's arm as he turned his attention to Burt Calhoun. "Officer, could you tell us exactly what happened?" 

"Look, I'm sorry. Sandburg came out about half an hour ago and then said he forgot something. He said he was going to call Jim, but, I swear to god, it never dawned on me, he was lying." 

"Shit." Jim rubbed his face with both hands, the spike of anger burning up through his bones, the fear a cold fist around his heart. After a few moments he found his voice again. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" 

"No, sir. He went back inside and I waited here like you told me. The kid you mentioned never showed up, at least not from this direction." 

"I should've stayed with him." 

"Jim, come on. It's okay. We'll find him. Let's check inside again." Doyle nudged his arm to guide him back toward the building. 

"I'm sorry." Calhoun held his hat in his hands, his face haggard and tired. 

"It's not your fault, Burt. Sandburg's a slippery bastard when he wants to be. Ask Taggart some time." 

"Thanks, Jim. I might do that." 

As soon as the officer left, Jim turned to Doyle, his jaw grinding. "I'm going to kill him." 

"Settle down. There's bound to be a good explanation." 

"Why would he take off?" 

"I don't know, but let's see if we can find out." 

Once inside, they stepped past Maggie Smith only to have her step to her door and call out. "Jim? What are you doing here?" 

"Have you seen Blair?" 

"You just missed him. He said his car wouldn't start again, so he borrowed my car to meet you." 

"The Corsica?" 

"Yes. What's wrong?" 

"I need the plate number." 

"Sure. I'll write it down." 

She jotted down the information and handed it over. "I knew something was wrong." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"He was upset. I mean, I thought it was because he was in a hurry and was mad about the car, but now that I think about it, it must have been something else." 

"Because, Blair doesn't get that upset about the car anymore, right?" 

"Not usually. I wish I could tell you more. You know how I feel about you and Blair." 

He touched her hand, grateful for the concern and worry. "Thanks. I'm going to put out an APB. We'll find him." 

"I hope so. Sometimes I wonder what the boy could be thinking." 

"That makes two of us, then." 

When she went back into her office, Jim and Doyle headed back to his truck. "Jim, are you thinking what I am?" 

"That he's gone off to meet with Donovan?" 

"Yeah." 

"Makes sense. He still doesn't believe Donovan's guilty." As they walked, Jim pulled out his cellphone and called the station, relaying the information about the car. Then he called Simon as he climbed in behind the wheel. "Captain." 

"Jim, what's going on?" 

"Another manhunt, looks like." 

* * *

God, what a dump, a condemned dump at that. The decrepit single frame building barely qualified as a house, support beams rotten and cracked, windows boarded up, the wooden steps broken and splintered. He climbed up on the porch, careful not to fall through, and found a loose piece of plywood used as a makeshift door. Once inside, his eyes adjusted to the dim light to reveal a stark room with nothing but garbage littering the edge of the walls and the corners. The whole place reeked of something dead, something filthy. He stood still only a few moments before he heard, "Put your hands up where I can see them." 

"I'm not armed, Paul." 

"Just do it." 

He raised both hands and waited. A flash light beamed and the young man stared at him from the far corner, his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion, a gun in his right hand. Taller than Blair remembered, he stood alert, feet slightly parted, almost like a soldier before an attack. Despite the cold clouding the air as he spoke, sweat beaded his forehead. "I knew you'd come." 

"Where'd you get the gun?" 

"It was easy. Did you tell anyone where you were going?" 

"I said I wouldn't." 

"Words don't mean shit. You said you wouldn't leave me, but you did." 

Swallowing hard, his heart racing, Blair shook his head. "I didn't want to, man. It's just that everyone said it'd be better if I stayed out of it." 

"Out of it? You mean out of my life, leaving me to those dumbfuck shrinks? They don't know anything. Not like you. I thought you were different." Blair took a step forward. "Don't move, man. I don't want to shoot you, but I will." 

Raising both hands a little higher, he nodded. "Just stay cool. Tell me what's going on? You asked me to be here, remember?" 

"I remember." The gun lowered slightly and then he motioned Blair towards a door near the back. "Let's go in here." 

"Why?" 

"Just move. It's warmer back here." Once through the door, Blair found a room no bigger than eight by ten, but better lighted with a lantern in two corners. "Put your hands behind your back." 

"Come on, Paul." 

"Behind your back, man. Now." 

As soon as he did, he found his wrists quickly bound with a fine flexible wire. He squeezed his eyes shut against memory, the sliced flesh of Reardon's victims fresh in his mind. "You don't have to do this, Paul." 

"Just shut up and sit down." As he spoke, Paul shoved him down on the camp cot against the wall. "You're going to listen. I need to tell you the truth." 

"I'm listening." 

"Michael's a liar. Every fucking thing he says is a lie. I didn't want to hurt those other boys. He made me." As he spoke, Paul kept the gun up, and paced back and forth, his movements even more jerky than before. Dirt and sweat stained his white T-shirt and his jeans sagged down on his narrow hips. Purple darkened and puffed his right cheek just under the right eye. 

"How'd you get the bruises?" 

"Had to pay for the stuff some way. The last guy got a little rough, that's all." 

"Shit." 

"It's no big deal." 

"Sure it is. You shouldn't have run away, Paul. It's too dangerous. You could get hurt out here alone." 

"I'm not alone now. Besides, I couldn't stay." 

"Why not?" 

Suddenly angry, Paul snapped, "I just told you. All the fucking lies. They're going to believe him and then I'm seriously fucked. I can't go to prison." 

"You won't." 

"Yeah, I will." 

Taking several long breaths, Blair pushed again. "If you don't want my help, why am I here?" 

"I need you to understand why I did it." 

"Did what?" 

"Killed Brian and Bobby." 

"What?" The room spun a little clockwise and then halted, the light thinning all around the edges. 

"I didn't mean to. It just happened. I mean, with Bobby, I was really into the scene, the pain, you know, and every time I hit him, it just got better. Michael kept saying do it, do it, do it over and over. Man, it was so hot, and I just couldn't stop." 

"Son of a bitch. Tell me this isn't for real." 

"As real as it gets, man. And, it's not the first time. Michael gave me the knife and I just did what he told me. But, now, I'm in charge." 

"Are you?" 

"Yeah. No more bosses, man. Nobody else telling me what the fuck to do, you know?" 

Sickness swelled inside and Blair struggled to keep his voice from breaking. "Who's Brian?" 

Paul stopped moving, his whole body suddenly still. His voice carried the words all raspy and grating in the air. "I loved him. I did, but he left me. I tracked him down though. I just wanted to talk, but then he started yelling and pushing me away. I didn't mean to shoot him, man, but I couldn't let him go. I mean, how could he just leave me like that? Son of a bitch said he loved me." Wild eyes met his as if he expected an answer. 

"Paul, you need help, man." 

"I need you to shut the fuck up and let me think." He sagged to the floor and leaned back against the wall, his knees up and the gun to his forehead. "I'm so tired." 

"Let me help." 

"How?" 

"Let me take you to the hospital." 

The boy came back up in a hurry, the panic feeding his voice. "No fucking way. No hospitals." 

"Paul, listen. You're tired and scared for a good reason. They'll help you figure all this out." 

Paul's movements suddenly calmed, his head tilting as he stared at Blair, his face hungry and wild. "I don't need that." He stepped closer and sat down on the bed, his firm body close and powerful. Using his free hand, he touched Blair's cheek. "I know what I need. I wanted you to be the one, man. I did. You're so beautiful. I love you so much, Blair. Just like Brian." The gun's barrel traced down his chest, then eased down and rubbed his crotch. 

Trying to jerk free only brought a quick slap and Paul pushing him down on his back, the pain in his wrists immediate. He repositioned Blair's body, his feet off the floor, his shoulders and neck bowed, awkward and painful. "Shit." 

"That wire can slice to the bone if you resist." 

"Damn it, this is wrong." He panted out the words, his arms pinned beneath him, straining and stretched to keep from hurting even more. 

"Is it?" The boy brushed the long curls gently as he used his muscular legs to part Blair's thighs and kneel between them on the narrow cot. He leaned over him and whispered, "I wish we had a better place, but I've done it in worse." 

"Jesus, Paul. Please." 

"You're begging now? You want me?" 

"I want you to stop." While one hand held the gun to his temple, the other unfastened his belt and worked at his zipper. His body fired with chaos, the confusion at being so wrong about everything robbing his breath. Air failed him as Paul roughly jerked down his briefs to capture his cock, rubbing and stroking. Despite the fear of a bullet to the brain, he bucked up, fighting and desperate. This couldn't happen, not again, not ever. 

The vicious blows to his face stunned him so much that he almost didn't recognize the first shout of "Police" or the gunshots that followed. The staggering force smothered him as Paul's dead weight covered him up, a blaze blasting his temple, a heated sting bright red across his eyes. 

His head pounded with the thunder of shock and the roar of "Blairs". He couldn't focus or talk, choking on blood, drowning as he gulped for air through panicked lungs, the battle against terror. 

Even Jim's touch didn't save him from the dip into a gaping, airless oblivion that swallowed him alive. 

* * *

The touch burned his shoulder, but Jim couldn't connect, couldn't understand the hollow voice urging him back until suddenly, just as quickly as it left, awareness returned. He knew the words. "Shit." 

"Jim?" 

He rested his head forward into his hands to contain the waves of pressure just inside the fragile skull, the pain like a weapon against his own clear thinking. "Have they said anything about Blair yet?" 

Ricky Doyle sat back and shook his head, his face strained with worry. "Simon's checking right now. What the hell just happened? You were fine and then all of a sudden you were gone." 

"I'll be all right. It's just a migraine." 

"You're not all right. You're in shock yourself." 

"I'm not in shock." 

Before Doyle could challenge it, Simon walked and took a seat beside them, his dark features grave. "Jim, they're taking him up to surgery." 

"Surgery?" Just the word clenched his gut, the anxious energy spiking up his middle. 

"They need to do some vascular repair on the right wrist. He's lost a lot of blood from that damn wire cutting through the veins." 

Flashes worked against a dark background as Jim remembered all the blood, the splashes of red from both Donovan and Blair staining the room. "What about the head wound?" 

"Not too serious. Bullet grazed the bone just above the temple. A slight concussion. It looked worse than it was. They had to stabilize him and now they're going to make sure there's sufficient blood supply to his hand. After that, well, we'll see." 

"See about what?" 

Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met his friend's eyes. "Jim, he's been through a lot here. We're talking some damn serious trauma. He's going to need some down time away from this whole mess." 

"I know that." Jim stood up, paced several times before he leaned against the wall, his head back and his arms folded against his chest. "I can't believe this happened. I mean, if I hadn't gotten there in time, shit, I don't even want to think about it." 

Doyle interrupted, his voice still level and even. "Just how did you know where to find him? I mean, the car was spotted a block away, but you knew right where to go without even a search." 

"A gut feeling." 

"Some gut feeling. Don't forget, I was there. I saw you in action, Jim. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it." 

Jim briefly glanced at Simon, the weight of their shared secret even more heavy. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Come on, Ellison. You were like some kind of primal warrior or something." 

"Primal warrior?" 

"Yeah, you know, like you were on this mission to find him and nothing else mattered, not police procedure, not your safety, nothing." 

"If I'd followed procedure and waited for back up, my partner would be dead." 

"I know that. But, I still want to know how you did it." 

"Doesn't matter how I did it. All that matters is that Blair's alive." 

Simon took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Look, Doyle, you don't know all about Jim's background. He was covert ops." 

"Covert Ops doesn't teach a man to hunt like that, Captain, to kill with what would've been an almost impossible killshot from his position in that building. It was dark and he shot through the damn door after he called out the warning. How could he aim at a target he couldn't possibly see and hit the boy like that?" 

"So, how do you think he did it?" 

"That's what I'm asking." 

Jim rubbed his face with both hands and then took a seat beside the younger man. "There were small cracks in the door with enough light to see what I needed. I'm a trained scout and sniper. Old habits die hard, doc. Luckily I don't have to use them that often." 

"And, what about now, what about what just happened right before Simon came back?" 

"What about before I came back?" The captain stared at Jim, his face even more concerned than before. 

"Like I said, it's just a headache." 

"A headache that had you completely non-responsive." 

"Shit, Jim." 

"It's no big deal, Simon. I'm fine now, or I will be as soon as I get to see Blair." 

Doyle shook his head, still unconvinced and still stubborn. "I'm not buying it. I know you had a pretty heavy shock, having to kill the boy and seeing your partner hurt like that." 

"But?" 

"But, this didn't look like any shock I've ever seen before, more like a seizure. You were anxious, which is understandable, but then all of a sudden, it was like you just shut down." 

"But only for a few minutes." 

Brown eyes narrowed, Doyle studying him too closely. "Has this happened before?" 

He didn't answer, instead he stood up and walked to the doorway, every muscle too tense against his bones. "I need some air." 

Simon lifted his hand and waved him off. "Go ahead. I'll wait here." 

"Tell him for me, sir." 

"What?" 

"I said tell him. I'm too tired right now, but he needs to know. Blair's going to need to talk about what happened, about us. I just can't do it right now." 

"What's he talking about, Captain?" 

"Go on, Jim." 

As he headed down the corridor to the chapel, he heard Simon start the long story, the implausible make believe record of his life. "I need your word that this is confidential." 

"Of course." 

"Jim and Blair are more than just partners..." 

Just hearing the words blurred his vision and he walked faster. He hadn't prayed in ages, but all of a sudden he needed to kneel and figure out a way to get some direction, find a way to know how to make it all better, to fix what seemed so truly and utterly broken. Hope and doubt both perched in his heart and refused to free him, their talons sharp and clawing. As he lit a candle, he saw Paul Donovan's head explode into a bony bits all over his partner's face. He shuddered and wiped away the tears, angry and weary, torn between rage and relief. Shaking, he bowed his head and swore to find some way to make it all better, to make sure Blair didn't suffer for the sins of his partner. He just had to wait for an answer, wondering if sentinel ears could hear God's voice any better now than before, before when all the answers were nothing but taunting silence. 

* * *

Watching Blair sleep, Jim studied the bruised and distorted lines of his face, the dark whiskers adding to the shadows. Donovan's death didn't begin to pay for the heartache, didn't even put a down payment on the sorrow of near loss of his only reason for living. His fists tightened around the edge of the rail as he remembered the squeeze of the trigger, the explosion against his hands, the rich, acrid cordite swamping the air. 

A low groan captured his attention as Blair shifted in the bed. Jim leaned forward again and palmed his forehead, the clammy coolness unsettling. "Hey, Chief, time to wake up." 

"God." 

"I know it hurts, but just open your eyes for me a minute, okay?" 

Lids fluttered and finally stayed open to reveal the cloudy blue of drug-dazed and unfocused vision. After a few moments of swallowing and throat clearing, Blair spoke in a rasp. "Jim?" 

"Yeah, buddy, I'm here." He took his hand and held it gently on the bed, careful of the bandages and the IV line. "You're going to be okay." 

"What happened?" 

"What do you remember?" 

"Paul called." 

"And?" 

"And I don't remember." 

Shit. "You don't remember meeting him?" 

"Meeting him?" 

Jim petted back his hair and shook his head. "It's okay, Chief. It doesn't matter right now. You've got a concussion. It'll come back to you later." 

Closing his eyes while he spoke, Blair squeezed his fingers around Jim's hand, his grip weak, but steady. "Did we save him?" 

"Save him?" 

"Yeah, Paul. Is he okay now?" 

"Go back to sleep, babe. We'll talk about this later." 

Eyes opened again, more alert and intense. "What's wrong?" 

"You've been hurt, that's all. Just rest." 

"Don't bullshit me, Jim." He turned his head slightly as he spoke, his words low, but determined. "I need to know what happened." 

It only took a second to weigh the problem, to decide between truth and deception. Blair always saw right through him anyway. "Paul's dead, Chief." 

"Dead?" 

"He's the one who attacked you." 

As Blair started to raise his right hand to his face, he stopped abruptly, his brows creasing, his face twisted. "God, I remember." 

"I didn't have any choice, Blair." 

"I know, but _fuck_." 

"I know." 

Carefully, Jim wiped away the tear as it fell down his lover's cheek, wishing he could take away the pain just as easily. 

After a few more moments, Blair whispered, "This sucks, Jim." 

"Yeah, it does." 

"I wanted to help, not get him killed." 

"You didn't get him killed. I fired the gun." 

"But, if I'd stayed away like you told me, he'd still be alive." 

"Jesus, it's not your fault." 

Eyes only half open looked up to his. "He trusted me." 

"He tried to rape you." 

"No, he didn't." 

"Blair, I was there." 

"He was sick. Confused." 

"He was fucking crazy, Chief." 

"Yeah, that, too. But, for a reason." 

"Maybe." Leaning forward again, Jim braced his forearms on the rail and spoke quietly. "Don't blame yourself. The boy was lost to Reardon long before you came into the picture." 

"He was only fifteen, man." 

"I know, Chief." The woeful ache of his friends words tightened his heart, his gut knotted as he listened to the labored breathing. 

"I can't think about this. It's too much." The words came out sleepy and sad, the earlier energy of revived memory gone. 

"Then don't. I'll be here when you wake up." 

Suddenly desperate, Blair gripped his hand harder, his face contorted. "Don't leave me." 

"I won't." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." Blair relaxed, his face less tense as his respiration slowed and sleep reclaimed him. 

Lowering the rail slightly, Jim leaned over and kissed his cheek, his voice cracking with the weight of the words. "I love you, Chief. If anybody leaves, it'll be you." He lifted the rail back into place and then pulled a chair closer to the bed, his hand slipping through the slats to touch his lover's hand, to stroke it while he battled against his fear of desertion, the fear of losing Blair in a hundred different fashions. 

* * *

"Jim, how's the kid?" 

"He's a little shaky, but he's going to be okay." Simon sat down across from him at the cafeteria table, his paper coffee cup in front of him. "So, what did Doyle say about the sentinel stuff?" 

"What do you think?" 

"That we both needed serious medication?" 

Simon laughed, but shook his head. "Actually, he took it pretty well. Said it explained a shitload." 

"A shitload? Did he say that?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fancy word for a shrink." 

"Come on, Jim. Give the guy a break. He's not so bad. Besides, you trusted him enough to tell him the truth." 

Sitting back against the springy yield of the plastic chair, Jim sipped the bitter coffee a few times before he spoke, the strong liquid harsh on his tongue. "Blair likes him." 

"And?" 

"And, like I said, he's going to need to talk about this." 

"So are you before it's over." 

Jim waved off the statement and sat up to brace his arms on the table. "I'm fine. It's Blair I'm worried about." 

"You're a team, Jim. What affects him, affects you. It's bound to." 

"I can handle things myself, Simon." Rubbing his chin, he pushed away the idea of talking to anyone about his feelings, especially a doctor. 

"Maybe, maybe not. You're still going to have to do the mandatory three sessions anyway. Might as well be with Doyle." 

"It was a good shoot." 

"Never said it wasn't, but that doesn't change the fact that you shot and killed a person, a young man you knew, or thought you did. That's got to be hard." Before he could interrupt, Simon edged closer and lowered his voice. "Jim, the guy was trying to rape and kill your partner. That kind of thing messes with your head and you've got to figure out some way to deal with it so you don't explode." 

"I did what I had to." 

"I know that, but you're bound to be pissed." 

"So, what if I am?" 

"Don't forget who you're talking to here. You get pissed, you take it out on everyone around you, including Blair." 

"I'm not going to do that." 

"Maybe not right away, but it'll show up. Blair doesn't need that. He's got enough to deal with." 

Standing up, Jim drained the coffee and then squashed the cup, tossing it in the nearby trash. "I can take care of my own problems, Simon. I don't need somebody like Doyle fucking around in my life." 

Simon sat back, his arm on the back of the chair as he looked up. "So, let me get this straight. It's okay for Sandburg to need help, but not you, right?" 

"I haven't been through what he has." 

"No, but you're going to have to deal with the fallout." 

"I'm prepared for that." 

"No, you're not." Stiffening, the anger swelling up, Jim turned to walk away only to find his friend blocking his path. "Listen to me on this, Jim. I know what I'm talking about here." 

"Well, I don't." 

Simon took a deep breath before he motioned him back to the table. "Sit down. Please." 

"I need to get back." 

"This will just take a few more minutes. It's important." 

The tone scared him. He knew Simon, knew all his voices, and this one only came out at the really bad times. As he sat down, he watched his friend actually wring his hands before he spoke, his voice more grave than usual. "I never told you this before, but my ex-wife was raped before we got married. It was a date rape thing from when she was in high school." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't know about it until after Daryl was born. We started having some problems. I didn't understand most of what was going on, thought it was me, you know." 

"Thought what was you?" 

"The reason why she suddenly started acting different, hating sex, like she couldn't stand to have me touch her, and the mood swings from hell. Some days I had no idea who that woman was I was living with. One minute we'd be kissing and laughing and then all of a sudden, she'd start crying or pitching a fit about something that made no sense. The thing is, I didn't understand shit." Jim wrapped his arms around his chest and stayed still, not really sure what he should say. The whole conversation made his skin hurt. "What I'm trying to say, man, is that when your partner's a survivor, you've got to learn about how to deal with it without letting it make you feel like a failure, like it's all your fault you're having problems." 

"But, Blair wasn't raped." 

"Doesn't matter. He was sexually assaulted, and add to that, from what hints you've dropped lately, he's got some heavy shit to deal with from his past. Am I right?" 

"Maybe." 

"So, what I'm trying to say is, I don't think you're prepared to deal with this alone. I know I wasn't." 

"Are you saying your divorce happened because of Joan's rape in high school?" 

"No, but it didn't help, either. I just wasn't prepared for how much harder it is to be with a survivor. There's a hell of a lot of shit to handle, shit that I had nothing to do with, but got blamed for." 

Jim shifted in his seat, uneasy, his body too charged to sit still. "I hear what you're saying, Simon. I do. And, I appreciate it. I just don't think it applies here." 

"Maybe not, but just think about it. Doyle might be able to help if you let him. You should give him a chance." 

"I'll think about it." 

"That's all I ask." Sitting back, he relaxed just a little. "Megan came by earlier, but Blair was asleep and you were with IA. She's really upset about this. You know how she feels about you two, especially Sandburg." 

"I know." 

"She's wondering if we should postpone the wedding." 

Glancing up, Jim shook his head. "Why? I mean, Blair wouldn't want that." 

"You don't think he'll be upset?" 

"He'll be upset if you postpone. Go ahead and tell us where to show up and we'll be there." 

"I hope you'll do more than show up. I was kind of hoping you'd be the best man." 

Warmed by the magnitude of the request, Jim smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that." 

"Good. I thought about asking Daryl, but I think he's not quite sure how he feels about this whole thing yet." 

"Give him time, Simon. He's just a little shocked that's all." 

"Shocked?" 

"Yeah, shocked that his old man still has sex." 

"Old is right." 

"You're not old." 

"Tell that to my back some nights." 

Jim stood up and teased, "Why do I get the feeling Conner can handle your old bones just fine?" 

"I refuse to answer that." But, the grin and intense flush under dark skin answered it for him. 

"You're a lucky man." 

"Yeah, I am. And so are you." 

"Yeah, I know." As Jim headed toward the doorway, Simon added, "Tell the kid to hang in there." 

"Sure, Simon, I'll do that." And then he wanted tell him to hurry up and get the hell home, into his arms, into their bed, and pretend none of this shit ever happened. 

* * *

"Okay, Mr. Sandburg, wiggle your fingers for me." Dr. Astor held Blair's right hand while the young man did just that, each digit moving on command. Jim smiled and let out his breath. "Excellent. Looks like there's no nerve damage and good circulation. Has there been any numbness at all?" 

"No. Some pain, but no numbness." 

"The pain's to be expected, but even that should go away after a few weeks." 

"Weeks?" 

"And I want you to wear this, too." He strapped on the blue brace over the bandages, and adjusted the Velcro straps before finally letting Blair's arm rest across the young man's chest. "I don't want you bending your wrist much for a few days. Then, I'll give you a schedule of physical therapy for later." 

"Sounds fun. When can I go home?" 

"Dr. Hamlin has to sign off on the neurological. Barring any complications, I'd say this afternoon." 

"Great." 

As soon as the doctor left, Blair grumbled, "Can't wait to get my ass out of here." 

"Settle down. You've only been here two days." 

"Two days too many." An involuntary shudder didn't go unnoticed. 

"You okay, Chief?" 

"If I were okay, I wouldn't be in the fucking hospital again. Shit." The snapping words tightened the air before Blair bit his swollen lower lip and shook his head. "Sorry, man. I'm just a little tense here." 

"I can see that. Want to talk about it?" 

"No, I don't want to talk about it." 

"I think that's my line." 

A ghost of a half smile transformed his battered face. "Don't make me laugh, Jim." 

Resting a hand on his shoulder, Jim squeezed gently. "Wouldn't be so bad to laugh, would it? It's been awhile." 

"Yeah, I know." Settling back against the stark white sheets, Blair took a deep breath and stared out the window. "It just all seems kind of unreal, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." 

"So, what did IA want this morning?" 

"Just wanted a statement about the shooting." 

"Guess they'll want to talk to me, too, then, huh?" 

"Probably, but not right away. Doyle was there. He's giving a back up statement. It was a righteous shoot, but I'm still on a desk until it clears." 

"Doyle was there?" 

"You don't remember?" 

"No." Uneasily, Blair played with the edge of the sheet, his eyes avoiding Jim's. "Did he see the whole thing then?" 

"By the whole thing, you mean Donovan trying to rape you?" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Yeah, he did." 

"What about the others?" 

"What others?" 

"Simon and everyone at the scene." He raised his left hand and rubbed his forehead just to the side of the bandage, his eyes tightly closed. "Did they see me like that?" 

"All they saw was a survivor, Chief. Donovan shot you in the head, and you were bleeding. It's only a miracle that bullet just grazed the skull and you're alive." 

"The only miracle is that you got there in time." His voice dropped even lower. "I swear I thought I was going to die, man." 

"But, you didn't." 

"No, but I was so fucking scared." 

"That's only human." 

"You don't understand." 

"Don't understand what?" 

He started to speak, but stopped and shook his head. "Forget about it. I'm just tired. I'm going to sleep for awhile." Awkwardly, Blair used his left hand to pull himself up some and then adjusted the head of the bed a little lower. "Why don't you go home and come back this afternoon, okay?" 

"I'd rather you tell me what it is I don't understand. I mean, I know what it's like to be afraid, Blair, to be thinking it's my time to go. I've been there, too." 

"I know you have, man." 

"So?" 

"So, what?" 

"So, tell me what the hell's going on in that head of yours." 

"Nothing, Jim. Just go home for awhile." 

"Not until you tell me, Chief." 

Groaning, Blair sat back up. "God, you're so fucking stubborn, you know that?" 

"Then we're a good match. Now, tell me." 

Anger gone, Blair ran his hand through his hair and swallowed several times before he spoke. "Given a choice between being shot or raped, I would've forced him to shoot me." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. I couldn't stop myself. He held the gun to my head and I looked into his eyes. I knew he'd kill me, but I had to fight anyway. I couldn't let it happen again." 

"Again?" Shit. Jim leaned forward on the rail, hand over his mouth, his whole body clenching at once. Air fought to avoid his lungs and his voice hid under his shocked tongue. "Are you saying you've been raped before?" 

"Not raped exactly." 

"I don't understand." 

"I think that's where we started." 

"Don't play fucking word games here, Sandburg. Just tell me the truth." 

"The truth is, I don't like thinking about what happened before." 

"You're not talking about Donovan." 

"No. There was a man once, a friend of Eli's." 

"Son of a bitch." 

"Yeah, he was. Anyway, I'm not sure if he raped me." 

"What do you mean, you're not sure? How can you not be sure?" 

"Because I'm fucked up, that's why. It was like I didn't want it, but I did it anyway. It's hard to explain, but it was the same feeling I had when Paul held me down." The whole time he spoke, Blair refused to look up, refused to do more than use his good hand to twist the sheet in a tight knot. 

"So, this happened when you were with Stoddard, when you were fifteen?" 

"Yeah. His name was Thomas. I hated him touching me, making me do things." 

"And Stoddard? Did he know about this?" 

It took several long seconds before Blair spoke, the one word choked, nearly swallowed back. "Yes." 

"Jesus, Blair, and he didn't stop it?" 

"No." The younger man sagged back, his face flushed, his breathing ragged and wet. "It's complicated. Man, I can't talk about this. It's too hard." 

"It's okay, babe." He petted his hair, wanting to crawl in bed beside him and draw him closer. "Just try to relax." 

"I'm so tired." 

"Go to sleep then." 

"Will you stay awhile longer?" 

"I'm not leaving." 

Jim stood there in the quiet listening to his lover ease into sleep, the whole time thinking about how much Eli Stoddard had to answer for. In his head, he mapped out just how that might happen, thought about all the hundreds of ways a man could suffer, ways his government and the Chopec taught him so well. In his heart, he wanted to use them all, not waste a single one before he delivered Stoddard to hell by way of a cold morgue slab. 

* * *

Braced back against the counter, Jim sipped his beer and watched his lover at the kitchen table. Using his left hand rather than his right, Blair tapped the keys slowly, his eyes squinting behind the glasses. "Your head still hurt?" 

"A little." 

"Then why don't you do that later? You're supposed to be resting." 

"I'll stop in a minute. There's a whole backlog of email to go through and I need to send Mags my apologies about the car and send her my lessons to give to Tina for the classes I'm missing." 

"You've already said you're sorry about the car, Blair. It wasn't your fault it got vandalized. I'll pay for the damage." 

"No, you won't. I will. It was my responsibility, so I'll pay for it." 

Taking a calming breath, Jim recognized the stubborn tone and let the argument go. "You want something to eat?" 

"I'm not hungry." He stopped reading the screen, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I could use a beer though." 

"No beer, not with antibiotics and the pain meds." 

"I didn't take any pain meds." 

"Still no beer. How about some herbal tea or juice?" 

"This sucks." 

"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any chances. You've got a concussion, too, remember? No alcohol for awhile." 

The younger man fingered the bandage over the gunshot wound near his temple, his eyes staring off and distant. "It's a little hard to forget." 

"Luckily, your head's harder than a bullet." 

"Yeah." 

The soft tone brought Jim to sit beside him, leaning in, talking gently. "Blair, come on. Let's go upstairs. You can do all this later." 

"There's too much to do, man." 

"Nothing that can't wait. Let me just hold you for awhile, okay?" 

He cupped his cheek with his right hand, drinking in the warmth as Blair eased into the touch. The younger man's face relaxed just a little before he shook his head and pulled away. "I can't right now. Let me finish this first and then take a shower." 

Disappointed, Jim sat up straight and frowned. "You don't need another shower, Chief. You just had a bath at the hospital." 

"Don't tell me what I fucking need, man." He stood up and stormed down the hall, slamming the bathroom door behind him. 

Jim followed and tested the door, concerned when he found it locked. "What the hell are you doing? You can't get those bandages wet. Just wait until tomorrow." 

The seconds extended before Blair answered, his angry voice replaced with a shaky one. "I can't wait. I need to wash him off." 

"Wash him off?" 

"I feel dirty, you know?" 

Shit. "Okay, but open the door. I'll change the dressings when you're finished." 

"I don't want you in here, Jim." 

A sucker punch to the belly would've hurt less, but Jim just stood there for a few moments, his jaw clenching, his hand still on the knob. "Why?" 

"I don't want you to see me right now." 

"Jesus, Blair." He leaned his forehead against the wood and closed his eyes. He hated being locked out, separated from the touch of the man he loved, the man he wanted most to protect. 

"I'm sorry." 

Swallowing back his own grief, he leveled his voice, determined to hide his hurt, his pain at being pushed away. "It's okay, but unlock the door in case you fall." 

"I won't fall." 

"Just in case, Chief. Please." 

The lock released from the other side and he forced himself to remain still, to not barge in and grab his partner, wrap him up and carry him upstairs to hold forever. "I'll close down the computer and get the bandages ready." 

"Thanks, man." 

"No problem." 

Yeah, right. 

* * *

Like a grotesque bracelet, the puckered and swollen skin wrapped Blair's right wrist. Each angry, black stitch held the flesh together just over the bone. Neither man spoke as Jim took care to apply the antibiotic and then cover and hide the damage with fresh gauze. He put the brace back on and then proceeded to dress the head wound, pushing the wet tangle of curls out of the way. As soon as he finished, he put away the supplies and washed his hands. "Want me to comb your hair?" 

"I can do it." 

"Whatever." 

"Don't be mad, man." 

"I'm not." 

"Yeah, you are." 

"Fuck off, Sandburg." 

"See?" 

"Shit." He tossed the hand towel in the sink instead of hanging it up. "Why do you do that?" 

"What?" 

"That. You keep pushing." 

"I'm not doing that." 

"Sure you are. You keep going until you piss me off and then it's my fault we're fighting." 

"We're not fighting." Blair took the wide-toothed comb and awkwardly attacked the tangles one-handed, frustrated and utterly defeated in a matter of seconds. "Shit." 

"You sure you don't want me to do that?" 

Shyly, Blair shrugged as he held out the comb. "If you want." 

Stepping in behind his lover, he tenderly touched the damp curls, careful not to tug too hard as he solved the puzzle of Blair's unruly mane as his lover complained, "Maybe I should just cut it." 

"Maybe you should just use a conditioner and be quiet." 

Using his fingertips, he massaged the scalp and then once again worked every strand, gauging the spring of each lock as he pulled it out and watched it recoil. He adored the way it glinted in the light, the auburn, the gold, the browns mixed with honey, the way it slid like silk against his skin, feathered his brain with kisses. "Jim, what are you doing?" 

"I love your hair, Chief." 

"I know." 

"Don't cut it." 

"But, what if I really wanted to?" 

Jim kissed the top of his head, the familiar whiff of almond shampoo arousing, and whispered, "If you want to cut it, cut it. Shave it if you want. I love you, Chief. Besides, you've got other curls to play with." 

"And what if I shaved those, too?" 

Feigning shock, grateful for the playful tone, he teased, "You wouldn't." 

"Bet me." 

"No way, Chief." 

"Why not? Afraid you'd lose?" 

"You bet." 

"Some tough guy." 

As he leaned in closer to kiss him again, Blair pulled away and stood up. "I think I'll fix some of that tea now." 

"I'll do that." 

"No, I can do it. Why don't you just go watch TV or something? Maybe there's a game on." 

"There's no game on tonight. It's time for supper anyway. What do you want me to fix?" 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You haven't eaten all day." 

"Would you just stop?" 

"Stop what?" 

"Being so overwhelming." 

"Overwhelming?" Jim stepped closer and found Blair backing away, his body tense as he held his injured right hand to his chest. Stopping, he noted the racing heartbeat, the flush of skin, the eyes wider than they should be. "Jesus, Blair. You're afraid of me." 

"I'm not." 

"Then what is it?" 

"It's not you, Jim. It's me. I'm fucked up here." 

"You're just tired. You've been through a lot." It took all his effort not to move forward to hug him. "It's okay to lose it a little." 

"I don't want to lose it." 

"No one does." 

"God." His shoulders drooped as he sagged back against the counter. "I feel like shit, man. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing it over and over, but it's all messed up because I keep seeing myself as a kid again. I fucking hate this." 

No rejection came to the testing touch as he drew his lover into an embrace, the shudders not from pleasure, but from the ambush of painful memories and exhaustion. Rubbing his back, he shushed in his ear. "It's okay, babe. I love you. Let's go lie down. I'll stay with you." 

The sob surprised him, the sudden wet shock against his shirt like flame in a dry rush. He let him cry and then finally guided him slowly up the stairs to a place as private and as safe as Jim Ellison could make it. 

* * *

Morning didn't come lightly, but hard and biting, whipping asses with winter and brittle air. Still dressed from the night before, Jim rested against the pillows and studied his partner, the deep and steady breathing a comfort after such a long struggle to get there. Blair's nightmares rocked their night, one after another, the screams short, but piercing. Each time the panic grew wilder, the despair bleeding into his eyes as he struggled to return to reason. Jim knew that look, recognized the terror of losing control, of being too afraid to even fight back against the demons rushing in all around. God, he'd been there. 

The mattress shifted to the sound of a grunt and groan and he met bloodshot blue eyes returning the stare. "Morning, Chief." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. There's an algae shake with your name on it downstairs. Feel up to it?" 

"In a minute, maybe." He lay on his back and brought his left arm up to cover his eyes. "You going in today?" 

"I have to for awhile. I was kind of hoping you'd come with me." 

"I don't think so." 

"Not to work, Chief. To see Doyle." 

"Like I said, I don't think so." 

"Why not?" 

"I don't want to." 

"Well, hell, I don't want to, either, but I've got to do the mandatory deal for the shooting, three sessions minimum." 

"You'll breeze through. Don't worry." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means, you'll go in, tell him you're fine, and be finished." 

"You think so?" 

His hostile tone got a reaction as Blair lifted his arm enough to peek out. "What?" 

"You think I'm fine?" Anger crept into the words, slowly, easing the power up with each one. 

"Jim?" 

Fighting down his own frustration, he took several long seconds to answer. "I'm not fine, Chief. I'm not sure what to do here." 

Clumsily, Blair sat up, pushing his hair out of his face. "Not sure about what?" 

"About you, about us, about this whole mess." 

"Why do you sound so pissed?" 

"Because I am. I hate what Donovan did to you, but I hate the whole business with Stoddard, too. I mean, why didn't you tell me about all that before this?" 

Blair crossed his arms, his tone suddenly defensive and tight. "I didn't see any point. It's history." 

"Well, it's not history now." 

"Sure it is." 

"No, it's not, Chief. This thing has opened up a whole flood of bad feelings, and you're drowning, and I don't have a clue how to save you." 

"You're overreacting." 

"I don't think so. I think you need to go to see Doyle, too." 

"I don't. I'm not a cop, remember? You and Simon can't order me to do that." 

"We shouldn't have to. You're smarter than this. You know something's not right." 

"And you think seeing a shrink will change that?" 

"I don't know, but it might." He paused for a moment, his touch to his partner's shoulder tentative. Blair didn't pull away, but didn't respond much either. Confession caught in his throat, but he pleaded harder. "I really need you to do this, Chief. Last night really scared me." 

Blair closed his eyes, his face strained and cloudy. "Give me a few days, Jim. It's too much right now." 

"It's too much because you're trying to do it alone." 

"I am not." 

"Yes, you are. You can't tell me that your reactions to this case and what happened with Donovan aren't connected to Stoddard." 

"Fuck Stoddard. He's got nothing to do with this." 

"Chief, be honest. What you told me in the hospital about Stoddard and that guy Thomas makes it connected." 

"I should never have said anything." 

"Keeping it a secret this long only makes me think you needed to tell it, needed to finally talk about what you've been hiding. I've never seen you like this before. It scares me." 

"Jesus." Blair turned to him and shook his head, his eyes finally meeting Jim's again. "That's the second time you've admitted to being scared. I think that's some kind of record." 

"I mean it." 

"I know you do." He paused and bit his lower lip before he reluctantly added, "I'm scared, too, man. I'm remembering things I'd forgotten.""I know about that." 

"Yeah, I know." Sighing, Blair shrugged and surrendered. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. Doyle's not so bad." 

"No, he's not." 

"You want to see him together or separate?" 

"Both." 

"Both?" 

"Yeah, and, there's something else. Doyle knows about the sentinel/guide thing." 

"Shit. Since when?" 

"Since he saw me track you to the house from a block away and shoot Donovan in the pitch black through a solid wood door. The final straw was when I zoned at the hospital. He just kept asking questions." 

"Damn it. I wish you'd discussed it with me first." 

"Why? I trust this guy. If I didn't, I wouldn't be pushing so hard for us to do this." 

"Maybe too hard." 

"You know how much I love therapy, Chief. That should tell you how serious I think this is." 

"Damn. That serious, huh?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then I guess I should get changed and go with you." 

"Good. The appointment's in two hours." 

"Appointment? What if I'd said no?" 

"Don't go there, Chief. Throwing you over my shoulder and carrying your ass downtown is not the image I need in my head before I go see a shrink." 

Blair's skin flushed as he smiled and stood up. "Mine, either, but hold that thought for later, okay?" He ducked and headed downstairs just as Jim threw his pillow, a few escaping feathers fluffing and floating through the air. 

* * *

"Glad to see you made it in today, Jim." Simon sucked on his cigar as Jim sorted through the files stacked up on his desk. "How's Blair?" 

"He's with Ricky Doyle." 

"And you didn't have to use handcuffs?" 

"Not this time." 

Simon's face sobered as he stepped closer. "Seriously, how is he?" 

"How do you expect him to be, sir?" 

"That bad?" 

"Yeah, well, we're working on it. I thought I'd clear up some paper work while I'm waiting for my turn." 

"Bet you're looking forward to that." 

"Not really, but I've been thinking about what you said." 

"And?" 

"And, I think maybe I need some pointers." 

"About dealing with Sandburg?" 

"Yeah, and myself." 

"That's quite a handful." 

"Could be." 

"Just let me know if I can help." 

"Sure." He met the concerned eyes and worked hard to keep his face neutral. "So, how are the wedding plans coming?" 

"It's set for two weeks from Saturday at 3. We're going to have the ceremony at Samaritan's Baptist church and reception at my place afterwards. Megan's dad is flying in, so she's going to stay with him at her place until afterwards. Then she's moving in with me permanently." 

"Making it legal, huh?" 

"Finally. To be honest, I can't wait. All this sneaking around and keeping it secret is a pain in the ass." 

"Tell me about it." 

Simon did a quick double take and then put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." 

"It's okay. I'm used to it." 

"But, it can't be easy." 

"No, it's not." Jim sat down behind his desk, leaned back, and spoke quietly. "We go out and see couples holding hands, kissing, laughing. But can we do that? No. We even hold hands or smile the wrong way and we get faggot shit. I get sick of it, Simon. I hate not being able to touch him in public, having to guard every damn word because some asshole might take it and let the whole world know we're together." 

"I know, Jim." 

"Do you?" 

"Yeah. When Peggy and I used to go out, we had to pretend to just be friends, too. Black and white wasn't in then." 

"Gay's never going to be in, Simon, not in my lifetime anyway." 

"You don't know that." 

"Yeah, well, let me know when it all changes and the world starts acting like it's not ass backwards. Right now, I'm too tired to worry about it." Rubbing his face with both hands, he sighed and then checked his watch. "I've got to go." 

"Sure." He paused for a moment before he spoke, his face even more tense. "I should've told you earlier, but I got a call from Reardon's lawyer." 

"What the hell did he want?" 

"Says Reardon's going to recant his confession and lay the murders on Paul Donovan." 

"You've got to be kidding me." 

"No. Says he wants a lesser charge because it was Paul who did all the actual killing." 

"Damn it. We've got the evidence to prove he's a lying son of a bitch. He raped those boys." 

"Yeah, well, we know that." 

"They ended up gutted and dead. Donovan didn't do that alone and no jury would believe he did. Besides, the kid was abused himself. We've got enough to prove that and get a conviction." 

"Yeah, probably." 

Jim stood up and stepped in next to Simon. "Okay, what is it you're holding back?" 

"I didn't want to say until I knew for sure." 

"Knew what?" 

"His lawyer hinted that he wants to use Blair as a witness." 

"No fucking way." 

"That's what I said, but he's going to at least want a statement about what Donovan told him while he held him prisoner. He wants to see if he can use that to show it was the kid and not Reardon who actually did the killings." 

"Shit. I should've shot the bastard when I had the chance." 

Simon touched his arm as he spoke, his voice low and earnest. "Did Sandburg tell you anything about what happened?" 

"Not about what he said, no, and I didn't ask him." 

"Well, I think you better warn him. Let him be prepared in case there's a summons." 

"God, this is so wrong." 

"I know." 

Meeting dark eyes, Jim worked to keep his voice from breaking. "He doesn't deserve this, Simon." 

"My hands are tied, Jim. He needs to be ready." 

"Not if I can help it." As he left, he started listing all the ways to stop Blair from going into a courtroom, everything from bribery to intimidation, from assault to murder. Whatever it took, he'd do it. 

* * *

Too anxious to sit still, Blair paced in front of the window, his injured arm held around his waist and the other up to his mouth. "I don't know if I can do this." 

"Do what?" 

"Talk about what happened." 

Doyle sat back, his body casual, but alert. "Then don't. Just talk about how you're feeling right now." 

"I want to say I'm fine, but I can't do that. I feel like I'm about ready to jump out of my skin, like everything's all jittery." 

"That's only to be expected. You've been through a serious trauma." 

"Yeah, I know, but it's not like it's the first time. I've been kidnapped and shot before. I was scared then, too, but somehow this feels different." 

"Do you know why?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"You want to talk about those other times?" 

"Not really." He stopped in front of the large window and stared out through the blinds, the winter greys etching the sky, the bitter wind evil and slicing. The cold outside didn't match the chill washing over his skin as he flashed on being chained by Lash and the bullet ripping through his leg at the mine. He shuddered as he relived the pressure of Paul holding him down, grabbing between his legs right before the boy's face exploded, the rusty spray singing his skin with blood and splintered bone. 

Gagging doubled him over, his morning coffee burning fire through his gut. He retched into the nearby trash can as he fell to his knees, the heaving stealing his breath and tearing up his insides. By the time he finished, he found himself crying. A wet cloth touched his hand and a comforting arm helped lift and guide him to the sofa. Sagging down, he held his head in his hands until the room stopped spinning. 

"Feeling better?" 

"Not much." 

"Take as much time as you need here, Blair. Just relax until you feel up to talking." 

"I think I should just go home." 

"And do what?" 

"I don't know. Sleep. Take a shower. Try to forget about this shit for awhile." 

"You'll probably want to do that more than once before this is over. But, avoiding it won't make it go away." 

"I know that." 

"The thing is, the more you talk about how you're feeling, the easier it'll get. It doesn't seem like it now, but it will." 

"I don't know how I'm feeling. I mean, I do, but I don't. Does that make sense?" 

Doyle pulled his chair a little closer and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. "You liked Paul, but he wasn't what you thought." 

"He lied, and I'm thinking, why didn't I see that? How could I be so stupid?" 

"Nobody saw it." 

"But, I should have. And, now he's dead because I fucked up." 

"How do you figure that?" 

"If I hadn't tried to play hero, he'd still be alive." 

"So, you're blaming yourself for his death?" 

"I should've called Jim right away." 

Straightening up, Doyle shook his head. "Just because you tried to help him, doesn't mean he died because of you. You're upset right now and your judgment isn't as clear as it might be. That's understandable. We all react differently to violence." 

"I just keep seeing him die over and over." 

"That'll get better. It's only been a few days." 

Blair paused and rubbed his mouth before he finally spoke. "It's not just Paul that's bothering me." 

"What is it?" 

"I don't really know how to explain it, but ever since I started on this case, I've been remembering and thinking about things that happened a long time ago." He wet his lower lip and wiped his left palm on his thighs, his body wired. "And, it's gotten worse since the attack. I keep confusing then with now. That's never happened before." 

Doyle's face grew even more serious, but he kept his voice even. "When does this happen?" 

"In my nightmares, but also just out of nowhere, a flash will come and it's like I'm fifteen again, scared shitless." 

"What happened at fifteen to scare you?" 

"A lot of things." 

"Such as?" 

Pushing back his hair, he avoided meeting Doyle's eyes. "I told you before about being with Eli Stoddard, right?" 

"Right. Did he hurt you?" 

"Not physically." 

"But emotionally?" 

"It's complicated." 

"It usually is." 

"See, I loved him and I thought he loved me, but then after awhile he brought this other person to live with us, and that's when it got scary." 

"Scary how?" 

"Well, that's the thing. I didn't remember all of it until this fucking case happened. I mean, I remembered, but I just never thought about it." 

"You didn't answer the question, Blair. Scary how?" 

His throat constricted around the words, each one dry and grating. "He made me feel like Paul did, like a victim." 

Doyle waited a moment and then prompted, "How did he do that?" 

"He did things he shouldn't have." 

"Did he rape you?" 

"I didn't think so before, but now, yeah, I think he did." 

"Why do you think that now?" 

"I don't know, except that being forced like that by Paul, well, it made me feel like it was then, when Thomas made me do things that I didn't want to do." 

"By things, you mean sexual things?" 

"Yeah." The word shrunk down, low and small as if trying to hide from the huge meaning. 

"Was Eli Stoddard involved in those things that you didn't want to do?" 

"God." Leaning his head back, Blair closed his eyes wanting to block out the images flooding over him, the rough hands, the cock blocking his air, the painful thrusts tearing him apart. 

"Blair, answer the question." 

"Yes." 

"And how did that make you feel?" 

"Lost." In his mind he circled the raw ache and shut down for awhile, his body too heavy, too much to even worry about. Turning on his side, he slid down and curled up, his hands tucked between his legs. "God, I'm so tired." 

"Then just rest. I'll be back." Then Doyle stood up and went to find Jim. 

* * *

"It's okay, Jim. I'm not going to fall apart here." Blair hung up his coat and took off his watch cap, his hair all frizzy and wild. "Don't keep watching me every minute. I'll be fine." 

"You're out on your feet. You need to go upstairs and sack out for awhile." 

"Why? So, I can just wake up screaming? Forget about it." Blair stepped to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. 

"Come on, Chief. No alcohol." 

"Fuck that. I want a drink." 

"Do what you want, then." 

"I plan to." 

Hands up in surrender, Jim stood by and watched while Blair took a long swallow and then sat down at the table to open his laptop. 

"God, you're so surly when you're tired." 

"Look who's talking, Mr. grumpy ass Ellison." 

"Let's not fight, okay?" 

"Fine." 

"Fine." Jim used both his hands to rub his face, the tension making his jaws ache. "So, I guess I should do laundry while I've got the afternoon off." 

"Might as well. I think we're out of towels." 

"We wouldn't be if you didn't shower every other minute." He stopped abruptly before Blair could answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." 

"It's okay." His voice shook slightly, his face drawn and haggard. "I know it's kind of crazy. I just can't seem to feel clean." 

"If it makes you feel better, shower all you want to." 

"But, it doesn't." 

Uneasy, not sure what to say, Jim just stepped closer and sat down. "Doyle said you agreed to daily sessions for awhile." 

"Yeah." Still avoiding his eyes, Blair bit his left thumb nail. 

"I think that's a good start." 

"I'm just not sure if it'll help. I don't really feel any better after this time." 

"It's going to get better, Blair. You just have to be patient." 

"What about you?" Sad blue eyes met his, the pupils small black points. 

"What about me?" 

"Can you be patient?" 

"About what?" 

"About me being so fucked up. I know I don't make it easy." 

Jim gently ran the back of his hand up along his cheekbone, letting the heat rush through his arm, taking in the flush of skin to skin pleasure. "I love you, Chief. And, I know it's a stretch, but I figure I owe you a little." 

"Owe me?" 

"You've had to be patient with me once or twice." 

A tiny grin replaced the frown. "You figure?" 

"Yeah, and so I can afford to give you a break until you get yourself together." 

Blair cupped the hand at his face and then turned his head to kiss the palm. Suddenly more serious, he whispered, "I love you, too, Jim. More than anything." 

"I know." 

Resting their foreheads together for a moment, Blair pulled back and then patted his cheek. "Now, go do the laundry. I never did finish all that email." 

"Slave driver." 

"You know you love it." 

Grunting, but smiling, Jim stood up and headed for the hamper. As he sorted through the stacks of clothes, he suddenly heard his lover's heart race. 

"Blair?" 

"Shit. Oh, shit. I don't believe this." 

As he dashed out of the bathroom, he found Blair staring at the screen, his face drained of color. "What the hell is it?" 

"This isn't happening." Blair got up and walked to the living room, his body still shaking, and stared out the window. 

"Tell me, Chief. What's going on?" 

"Eli's plane crashed over Borneo. There were no survivors." 

"Are you sure?" 

Blair swallowed hard, his voice choked, the words resistant. "He's dead, Jim. They found his body." 

Jim stepped nearer, his arms wrapping around his lover, drawing him close. "I'm sorry." 

And, even as he said it, he knew the lie, knew that having the bastard dead didn't bother him at all. Only Blair's pain touched him, made him pray that the great Eli fucking Stoddard suffered in a big way before he took that final deep breath. 

* * *

Jim poured the coffee and refused to say Blair looked like shit, even though he did. The young man's whole body dragged as he walked from the bathroom to the table, his hair uncombed, and his bruises just beginning to yellow. "There's coffee." 

"Thanks." 

"So, how are you feeling?" 

"Not bad. Kind of numb." 

"At least you slept a little last night." Blair didn't answer, just stayed still and quiet. Jim got another cup, filled it, and brought it to his partner. "Drink up and then I need to change your bandages again." 

As Blair drank quietly, Jim heard the steps coming down the hallway and stood by the door before the knock. When he opened it, a well-dressed, middle-aged man stood on the other side. "What do you want?" 

"I'm Aaron Silver, of Levin, Burke, and Stevens. I'm here to see Mr. Blair Sandburg." 

"Are you defending Reardon?" 

"I'm not that kind of lawyer, Detective. I represent the estate of Dr. Eli Stoddard." 

"Shit." Blair stood up and came to the door, his face flushed and angry. "Why are you here?" 

"Let me in, and I'll explain. It's important." 

The younger man turned and walked to the sofa while the other two followed behind him. While he sat down, Jim stood by the window and Silver took a place beside Blair. 

"Mr. Sandburg, I'm sorry for the timing. I know about the Reardon case from the news, and seeing you now, I can tell you're still not fully recovered." 

"It's okay. Just tell me what's going on." 

"Dr. Stoddard left specific instructions about what to do if anything ever happened and he was declared dead." 

"What kind of instructions?" 

"As you know, he was one of the most important men in his field." 

"I know." 

"But he never married and had no family. In his will he declared a good portion of his library would go to the university to complete the Stoddard Collection. However, the rest of his estate has been left to you." 

"You've got to be kidding." 

"Not at all. Plus, he was particularly adamant that you be in charge of the personal papers and journals, and that no one, except myself, was to have access to any materials without your expressed permission." 

"Son of a bitch." 

"Jim, don't." 

"Don't what, Chief? The man can't even die and leave you the fuck alone." 

Silver stared up at Jim, his face impassive. "Is there a problem?" 

Blair touched his arm and drew his attention away from Jim. "What if I declined the inheritance? Would it all go to the University?" 

"No. It would be placed in a special trust for your designated heirs or for yourself should you change your mind later." 

"Really?" 

"Really, but I would advise against that." 

"Why?" 

"I've read some of the private papers, in particular the journals and letters from the first summer you two met. I really don't think you want those in a public forum." 

Jim watched as Blair shrank back, his whole face suddenly drained of color. "Chief, you okay?" 

"I can't believe this is happening after all this time." 

Silver's voice stayed very calm and level. "From what I've read, you didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Sandburg. You were a minor." 

"Doesn't matter, man. I'm fucked." 

"No, you're not, Chief. Stoddard was. Son of a bitch knew you wouldn't want anyone reading about the shit he pulled. He knew you'd cover his sorry ass even now." 

"Just stop it. Don't say anything else, okay?" His hand trembled as he pushed back his hair. "I'm too tired to fight about this, Jim. Just leave it alone." 

Standing up, Silver pulled out a padded envelope and put it on the table. "Here's the key to his house and the first journal. The estate will have to go through probate, but you can start going through his papers and deciding on what goes to the University whenever you want. Feel free to contact me at any time with concerns or questions about your options and the details of the will." He cleared his throat before he continued. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Sandburg. I didn't mean to upset you." 

"It's not your fault." 

"No, but I wish I'd had a better picture of your relationship with my client. I might have advised him on a different course of action." 

Jim guided Silver out and locked the door behind him and then turned to see his partner lying back on the couch, feet up, his eyes closed. "Blair?" 

"Do me a favor, Jim." 

"What?" 

"Just leave for a little while." 

"Leave?" 

"I'd go for a walk, but I'm too tired." 

Jim stepped closer, his own anger finally lessening. "I don't want to leave you alone right now." 

"Then I'll leave." 

As he shifted to sit up, Jim stopped him. "Don't. I'll go to the station for a few hours, okay?" 

"Thanks. I just need a little time to get my head straight, you know?" 

"Yeah. I know." 

Jim grabbed his jacket and keys and touched the door knob, his own hand suddenly shaky. "I'll be back." 

"You better." His voice softened before added, "I love you, man." 

"I love you, too. I'll bring back some lunch." 

"Chinese?" 

"Sure." He hesitated, but only for an instant. "Call me if you need me, Chief." 

"Always." 

The promise carried gold, gave him the trust and courage to leave Blair alone when he most wanted to hold him and fix everything wrong in his life. Heading out to his truck, his eyes stung as he listened to the slow turning of pages and mournful tears, tears for the ultimate betrayal. 

* * *

The end of Book One of MENTOR


End file.
